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Catie McQ Astrology

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The longest leg of the talent triangle — the spine of the vessel — is Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, and it may be the most consequential aspect in the sky right now.
Uranus is the awakener: invention, the sudden break, the lightning that rewrites what came before. In Gemini it works through mind, language and information — and in the body, Gemini rules the nervous system itself, the nerves and synapses and wiring. Uranus in Gemini is electricity moving through the nerves: a rewiring. Pluto is death and rebirth, depth, power and what lies buried beneath it; in Aquarius it transforms the collective — networks, systems, technology, the human grid. A trine binds these two currents into one: the reinvention of how we communicate and the death-and-rebirth of the systems that connect us, moving together. The nervous system of the world, rebuilt at the root.
It's a cycle, not an event. Uranus and Pluto met at their conjunction in the mid-1960s and came to a square in the early 2010s — the decade everything cracked open through a screen. Now, for the first time in that cycle, they reach a trine. The same transformative current, but where the square cracked, the trine flows: the difference between a wound and a channel. This is part of why André Barbault could call the larger configuration benefic — not because Pluto is ever gentle, but because the deepest change in the sky finally has somewhere to go.
Part three of the series.
#uranustrinepluto #uranusingemini #plutoinaquarius #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

The longest leg of the talent triangle — the spine of the vessel — is Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, and it may be the most consequential aspect in the sky right now.
Uranus is the awakener: invention, the sudden break, the lightning that rewrites what came before. In Gemini it works through mind, language and information — and in the body, Gemini rules the nervous system itself, the nerves and synapses and wiring. Uranus in Gemini is electricity moving through the nerves: a rewiring. Pluto is death and rebirth, depth, power and what lies buried beneath it; in Aquarius it transforms the collective — networks, systems, technology, the human grid. A trine binds these two currents into one: the reinvention of how we communicate and the death-and-rebirth of the systems that connect us, moving together. The nervous system of the world, rebuilt at the root.
It's a cycle, not an event. Uranus and Pluto met at their conjunction in the mid-1960s and came to a square in the early 2010s — the decade everything cracked open through a screen. Now, for the first time in that cycle, they reach a trine. The same transformative current, but where the square cracked, the trine flows: the difference between a wound and a channel. This is part of why André Barbault could call the larger configuration benefic — not because Pluto is ever gentle, but because the deepest change in the sky finally has somewhere to go.
Part three of the series.
#uranustrinepluto #uranusingemini #plutoinaquarius #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Mark July 29, 2026. Jupiter cazimi — the greater benefic taken into the heart of the Sun, at 6° Leo, in the Sun's own sign. The peak blessing of the whole transit. It lands in Leo's Saturn-ruled first face, so this is the crown you earn, not the one you're handed — glory with a spine. If there's one thing you want to begin this year, begin it here. (4 of 7.) Save this so it finds you in July.
Let me below what you will launch or what you are being more playful creative and bold around?

Mark July 29, 2026. Jupiter cazimi — the greater benefic taken into the heart of the Sun, at 6° Leo, in the Sun's own sign. The peak blessing of the whole transit. It lands in Leo's Saturn-ruled first face, so this is the crown you earn, not the one you're handed — glory with a spine. If there's one thing you want to begin this year, begin it here. (4 of 7.) Save this so it finds you in July.
Let me below what you will launch or what you are being more playful creative and bold around?

Leo proposes a sovereign; Aquarius — the crowd, the network, the many — decides whether to keep one. That axis runs through every Jupiter-in-Leo year, and in 2026 it's electric: Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius; the individual answers to the collective at full intensity. Where, in your own chart, does that conversation between the one and the many live?
#jupiterinleo #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Leo proposes a sovereign; Aquarius — the crowd, the network, the many — decides whether to keep one. That axis runs through every Jupiter-in-Leo year, and in 2026 it's electric: Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius; the individual answers to the collective at full intensity. Where, in your own chart, does that conversation between the one and the many live?
#jupiterinleo #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Once every twelve years, Jupiter moves through Leo — and when it does, the sky makes an unmistakable offer: more. More creative courage. More radiance. More willingness to be seen, to play, to inhabit the full warmth of your own life rather than watching it from the wings.
Jupiter entered Leo on June 29, 2026, and it will stay through July 2027. That's thirteen months of the most generously expansive, theatrically alive, heart-forward energy available in the astrological year. It is also, for many of us, thirteen months of confronting exactly why we have been playing small.
The Stage Awaits was written for that confrontation — and for the gorgeous opportunity on the other side of it.
This richly designed, beautifully formatted workbook offers three complete frameworks for working with Jupiter in Leo:
For therapists and those doing inner work — a CBT-informed section on the visibility wound, the inner critic as audience, and the worthiness blocks that this transit reliably surfaces. With three original worksheets including The Visibility Inventory, Meeting the Inner Critic, and The Worthiness Audit.
For healers and somatic practitioners — a full chakra mapping of Jupiter in Leo's energy through the body, with specific embodiment practices for opening the heart and spine, voice and sound work, play-in-the-body practices, crystal allies, Reiki focal points, and somatic journal prompts.
For artists, performers, and creative seekers — a theatrical creative lens drawing on Viola Spolin's improvisational theater work, drama therapy, and the liberating philosophy of genuine childlike play. With twelve original stage prompts, a Creative Declaration worksheet, and guidance on morning pages and artist dates specific to this transit's energy.
The workbook also includes a full astrology primer for those newer to the language, a personal chart locator, a complete sign-by-sign breakdown of where Jupiter in Leo is expanding your life, a detailed transit timeline, and notes on the Jupiter retrograde (December 2026 – April 2027) and how to work with it.
Art by @carolinwood
Only 9.00 - instant download.
Link in bio

Once every twelve years, Jupiter moves through Leo — and when it does, the sky makes an unmistakable offer: more. More creative courage. More radiance. More willingness to be seen, to play, to inhabit the full warmth of your own life rather than watching it from the wings.
Jupiter entered Leo on June 29, 2026, and it will stay through July 2027. That's thirteen months of the most generously expansive, theatrically alive, heart-forward energy available in the astrological year. It is also, for many of us, thirteen months of confronting exactly why we have been playing small.
The Stage Awaits was written for that confrontation — and for the gorgeous opportunity on the other side of it.
This richly designed, beautifully formatted workbook offers three complete frameworks for working with Jupiter in Leo:
For therapists and those doing inner work — a CBT-informed section on the visibility wound, the inner critic as audience, and the worthiness blocks that this transit reliably surfaces. With three original worksheets including The Visibility Inventory, Meeting the Inner Critic, and The Worthiness Audit.
For healers and somatic practitioners — a full chakra mapping of Jupiter in Leo's energy through the body, with specific embodiment practices for opening the heart and spine, voice and sound work, play-in-the-body practices, crystal allies, Reiki focal points, and somatic journal prompts.
For artists, performers, and creative seekers — a theatrical creative lens drawing on Viola Spolin's improvisational theater work, drama therapy, and the liberating philosophy of genuine childlike play. With twelve original stage prompts, a Creative Declaration worksheet, and guidance on morning pages and artist dates specific to this transit's energy.
The workbook also includes a full astrology primer for those newer to the language, a personal chart locator, a complete sign-by-sign breakdown of where Jupiter in Leo is expanding your life, a detailed transit timeline, and notes on the Jupiter retrograde (December 2026 – April 2027) and how to work with it.
Art by @carolinwood
Only 9.00 - instant download.
Link in bio

The wheel reaches its summit this week and begins its long lean back toward the dark. Because the Cancer ingress is a hinge of the year, I'm reading the season — and it opens under a Sun–Neptune square (Jun 25): structure dissolving into dream. Then two doorways return us to the personal: Venus trine Saturn in fire (Jun 25) — love with a spine, beauty with bones — and Mars sextile Jupiter at the threshold (Jun 28) before Mars quickens into Gemini. Integrate. Listen. Then move.
#weeklyastrology #astrologersofinstagram #astrology #weekaheadastrology

The wheel reaches its summit this week and begins its long lean back toward the dark. Because the Cancer ingress is a hinge of the year, I'm reading the season — and it opens under a Sun–Neptune square (Jun 25): structure dissolving into dream. Then two doorways return us to the personal: Venus trine Saturn in fire (Jun 25) — love with a spine, beauty with bones — and Mars sextile Jupiter at the threshold (Jun 28) before Mars quickens into Gemini. Integrate. Listen. Then move.
#weeklyastrology #astrologersofinstagram #astrology #weekaheadastrology

Twenty Jupiter-in-Leo passages handed the Lion a stage. This one hands it a stage and cuts the lights — because the South Node and a total solar eclipse fall in Leo itself, and Pluto in Aquarius opposes the whole arc. The work of 2026 isn't being seen. It's discovering what's left of the radiant self when no one is watching. Keep the flame. Retire the act.
Please comment STAGE if you want more content! Thank you it really helps me and my work be visible!
#jupiterinleo #leo #cultofvisibility #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Twenty Jupiter-in-Leo passages handed the Lion a stage. This one hands it a stage and cuts the lights — because the South Node and a total solar eclipse fall in Leo itself, and Pluto in Aquarius opposes the whole arc. The work of 2026 isn't being seen. It's discovering what's left of the radiant self when no one is watching. Keep the flame. Retire the act.
Please comment STAGE if you want more content! Thank you it really helps me and my work be visible!
#jupiterinleo #leo #cultofvisibility #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Lift Jupiter out of the July sky and the configuration doesn't disappear — it resolves into a triangle. Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, with Neptune in early Aries at the midpoint, sextile to both: one trine and two sextiles, the figure the tradition calls a minor grand trine and the school of Bruno and Louise Huber called a talent triangle.
What makes it is the point. Not the fast personal planets that pass in days, but Uranus, Neptune and Pluto — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, whose angles hold for years, not hours. Uranus circles the Sun in 84 years, Neptune in 165, Pluto in nearly 248. The figure came within orb in 2022, drew nearly exact in 2025 with all three legs within a degree or two of the start of their signs, perfects again near 4 degrees this July, and a third time near 6 to 7 degrees in June 2027. Between those passes it never leaves orb.
A talent, in the older sense, is a gift you're handed and asked to grow — not a verdict, not a guarantee, but a capacity. But the triangle on its own is only the floor: the foundation, the bottom of something larger. It isn't the vessel yet; it's what the vessel is built on. The vessel is these three at play — the moment the faster planets move across the foundation and it becomes a container that can hold a season, a crisis, a chance. The basket is loud and brief; the triangle beneath is quiet and long, the part that holds — and what we live inside all year is what gets built on top of it.
Part two of the series. Talent-triangle framing after Bruno and Louise Huber; long-cycle forecast after André Barbault.
#barbaultbasket #astrologersofinstagram #talenttriangle #thevessel #astrology

Lift Jupiter out of the July sky and the configuration doesn't disappear — it resolves into a triangle. Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, with Neptune in early Aries at the midpoint, sextile to both: one trine and two sextiles, the figure the tradition calls a minor grand trine and the school of Bruno and Louise Huber called a talent triangle.
What makes it is the point. Not the fast personal planets that pass in days, but Uranus, Neptune and Pluto — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, whose angles hold for years, not hours. Uranus circles the Sun in 84 years, Neptune in 165, Pluto in nearly 248. The figure came within orb in 2022, drew nearly exact in 2025 with all three legs within a degree or two of the start of their signs, perfects again near 4 degrees this July, and a third time near 6 to 7 degrees in June 2027. Between those passes it never leaves orb.
A talent, in the older sense, is a gift you're handed and asked to grow — not a verdict, not a guarantee, but a capacity. But the triangle on its own is only the floor: the foundation, the bottom of something larger. It isn't the vessel yet; it's what the vessel is built on. The vessel is these three at play — the moment the faster planets move across the foundation and it becomes a container that can hold a season, a crisis, a chance. The basket is loud and brief; the triangle beneath is quiet and long, the part that holds — and what we live inside all year is what gets built on top of it.
Part two of the series. Talent-triangle framing after Bruno and Louise Huber; long-cycle forecast after André Barbault.
#barbaultbasket #astrologersofinstagram #talenttriangle #thevessel #astrology

I got to speak with the absolutely incredible Gray Crawford a chironian influence in my life and one of my great teachers in my astrological lineage. We spoke about Chiron in Taurus, weaving mythology, personal experience, world signification and the reverence of nature

I got to speak with the absolutely incredible Gray Crawford a chironian influence in my life and one of my great teachers in my astrological lineage. We spoke about Chiron in Taurus, weaving mythology, personal experience, world signification and the reverence of nature

Jupiter returns to Leo on June 30th- the only sign the sun rules. The Great Benefic in the house of the Sun doesn't simply expand creativity. It enlarges the question of the crown : who is elevated, who is released. Two centuries of these returns answer it from both poles in the same breath- a star made, a throne emptied. This is part 1 of a 7 part series on what the Lion is really carrying into 2026-27. Save it , the dates are coming. Comment Lionheart if you want more!

Jupiter returns to Leo on June 30th- the only sign the sun rules. The Great Benefic in the house of the Sun doesn't simply expand creativity. It enlarges the question of the crown : who is elevated, who is released. Two centuries of these returns answer it from both poles in the same breath- a star made, a throne emptied. This is part 1 of a 7 part series on what the Lion is really carrying into 2026-27. Save it , the dates are coming. Comment Lionheart if you want more!

The configuration everyone's calling the basket this summer — Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius — is real, and it's lovely. But it's the lid, not the structure underneath it.
A basket forms when a cluster of planets is bounded by a single opposition thrown across the open side: one planet alone, opposite the group, a handle over a bowl. In July that handle is Jupiter, reaching to Pluto. For about three weeks, the picture closes.
Take Jupiter away and the real figure remains: Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in early Aries sextile to both — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, a standing structure that needs no handle to exist. It came within orb in 2022, drew to near 1° of the signs in 2025 as Saturn met Neptune at the threshold of Aries, perfects again near 4° this July, and a third time in 2027 — never leaving orb in between. It holds into the 2030s.
This is the figure André Barbault charted as the recovery out of the 2020s and called the most benefic configuration of the century. The basket is only the moment it becomes visible enough to point at.
This is part one of a series walking through the whole thing — not the three weeks, the three years. It's the configuration many of you first found me through, mapped all the way out. The reading of the basket as a planetary picture belongs to SJ Anderson, whose work named the silhouette; what follows is my attempt to map the structure beneath it.
Where is this one landing for you? 🏺
I have an entire substack piece on this! Please check it out link in bio
#barbaultbasket #thevessel #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

The configuration everyone's calling the basket this summer — Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius — is real, and it's lovely. But it's the lid, not the structure underneath it.
A basket forms when a cluster of planets is bounded by a single opposition thrown across the open side: one planet alone, opposite the group, a handle over a bowl. In July that handle is Jupiter, reaching to Pluto. For about three weeks, the picture closes.
Take Jupiter away and the real figure remains: Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in early Aries sextile to both — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, a standing structure that needs no handle to exist. It came within orb in 2022, drew to near 1° of the signs in 2025 as Saturn met Neptune at the threshold of Aries, perfects again near 4° this July, and a third time in 2027 — never leaving orb in between. It holds into the 2030s.
This is the figure André Barbault charted as the recovery out of the 2020s and called the most benefic configuration of the century. The basket is only the moment it becomes visible enough to point at.
This is part one of a series walking through the whole thing — not the three weeks, the three years. It's the configuration many of you first found me through, mapped all the way out. The reading of the basket as a planetary picture belongs to SJ Anderson, whose work named the silhouette; what follows is my attempt to map the structure beneath it.
Where is this one landing for you? 🏺
I have an entire substack piece on this! Please check it out link in bio
#barbaultbasket #thevessel #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — and June 19th is Juneteenth. On that date in 1865, two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation, General Gordon Granger reached Galveston and issued General Order No. 3, freeing the last ~250,000 enslaved people in Texas. Freedom delayed. The order even promised "an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property" — and that material promise was never kept; the forty acres never came. Taurus is the sign of land, property, labor, the body, worth — what we have and what we are owed. So Chiron, the wounded healer, crossing into Taurus on this exact date lands on the unfinished business of that day: the wound in the material world, still open. Martin Luther King was born with Chiron in Taurus alongside Jupiter, and his work bent, by the end, toward economic justice — the Poor People's Campaign, the Memphis sanitation workers and their fight for a living wage. He died working on the Taurus wound. Chiron returning to that sign is a kind of homecoming to the work left unfinished. Chiron brings the wound to the surface and does not heal it for us; it asks us to look — to witness what freedom was promised, and what is still owed. I found this connection myself, watching the chart cross into Taurus on this date — and I'll take that. But the meaning of this day was never mine to give; it belongs to the people who carry its history, and that history is best heard from Black historians and Black voices. I'm just showing you where the sky put it.
(This was researched and looked into thanks to multiple followers comments and insights regarding this ingress occurring on Juneteenth.)
#juneteenth #mlk #chironintaurus #chiron #astrology

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — and June 19th is Juneteenth. On that date in 1865, two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation, General Gordon Granger reached Galveston and issued General Order No. 3, freeing the last ~250,000 enslaved people in Texas. Freedom delayed. The order even promised "an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property" — and that material promise was never kept; the forty acres never came. Taurus is the sign of land, property, labor, the body, worth — what we have and what we are owed. So Chiron, the wounded healer, crossing into Taurus on this exact date lands on the unfinished business of that day: the wound in the material world, still open. Martin Luther King was born with Chiron in Taurus alongside Jupiter, and his work bent, by the end, toward economic justice — the Poor People's Campaign, the Memphis sanitation workers and their fight for a living wage. He died working on the Taurus wound. Chiron returning to that sign is a kind of homecoming to the work left unfinished. Chiron brings the wound to the surface and does not heal it for us; it asks us to look — to witness what freedom was promised, and what is still owed. I found this connection myself, watching the chart cross into Taurus on this date — and I'll take that. But the meaning of this day was never mine to give; it belongs to the people who carry its history, and that history is best heard from Black historians and Black voices. I'm just showing you where the sky put it.
(This was researched and looked into thanks to multiple followers comments and insights regarding this ingress occurring on Juneteenth.)
#juneteenth #mlk #chironintaurus #chiron #astrology

Everyone's about to tell you the basket is a three-week event. Jupiter opposite Pluto, July 20, lovely, gone by August. 🏺
They're describing the doorway and calling it the house.
What's actually overhead is built from three of the slowest planets in the sky — Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in Aries, Uranus in Gemini — and it doesn't arrive in July and vanish in August. It holds for years. The basket is just the one face of it you can see this summer.
So I wrote the whole thing down: what the configuration actually is, why André Barbault called it the most benefic of the century, how it gets struck into life again and again across 2026 and 2027 — and why I've stopped calling it a basket and started calling it the vessel.
The basket is a few weeks in July. The vessel is the year.
Full essay on The World Point — link in bio.

Everyone's about to tell you the basket is a three-week event. Jupiter opposite Pluto, July 20, lovely, gone by August. 🏺
They're describing the doorway and calling it the house.
What's actually overhead is built from three of the slowest planets in the sky — Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in Aries, Uranus in Gemini — and it doesn't arrive in July and vanish in August. It holds for years. The basket is just the one face of it you can see this summer.
So I wrote the whole thing down: what the configuration actually is, why André Barbault called it the most benefic of the century, how it gets struck into life again and again across 2026 and 2027 — and why I've stopped calling it a basket and started calling it the vessel.
The basket is a few weeks in July. The vessel is the year.
Full essay on The World Point — link in bio.

The oldest way to find the father in a chart was never just one placement. Ptolemy, in the Tetrabiblos, gives him the Sun and Saturn (the mother gets the Moon and Venus). Dorotheus and Valens refined it by sect — the Sun for the father in a day chart, Saturn in a night chart — but both told us not to get rigid about it. Sometimes Saturn is the truer father even in daylight. You read the chart in front of you, not the rule.
Dorotheus went further. Take that significator, find its three triplicity rulers, and you get the father in three acts: early life, middle years, end. How those three rulers are doing tells you whether his fortunes climbed or fell across his life.
Then the houses. The fourth — the IC, the bottom of the chart, the root — is the parental ground, and a lot of the older tradition (Lilly included) gives it to the father outright. Not everyone agrees; some lineages and most modern psychological astrology hand him to the tenth and to Saturn instead. Find the sign on the cusp, its ruler, and follow that planet for the whole story.
There's also a Lot of the Father: by day, the arc from the Sun to Saturn thrown from the Ascendant; reversed by night; with a switch to Mars-to-Jupiter when Saturn is burned under the Sun's beams (Paulus Alexandrinus, Dorotheus). The medieval world called that same point the Lot of Power, the Lot of Kingdom.
Turn the chart and the line keeps going — the father's father is the fourth from the fourth, your radical seventh. The moderns kept the Sun and added the Sun/Saturn midpoint (Witte's Hamburg School, Ebertin's cosmobiology), the axis where the father shows up as solidity, and sometimes as distance. And the traditions don't even agree on his house: the West buries him in the foundation, while Jyotish (per Komilla Sutton) puts him up in the ninth, the house of dharma and fortune.
He's in there either way. Happy Father's Day.

#fatherday #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #dad

The oldest way to find the father in a chart was never just one placement. Ptolemy, in the Tetrabiblos, gives him the Sun and Saturn (the mother gets the Moon and Venus). Dorotheus and Valens refined it by sect — the Sun for the father in a day chart, Saturn in a night chart — but both told us not to get rigid about it. Sometimes Saturn is the truer father even in daylight. You read the chart in front of you, not the rule.
Dorotheus went further. Take that significator, find its three triplicity rulers, and you get the father in three acts: early life, middle years, end. How those three rulers are doing tells you whether his fortunes climbed or fell across his life.
Then the houses. The fourth — the IC, the bottom of the chart, the root — is the parental ground, and a lot of the older tradition (Lilly included) gives it to the father outright. Not everyone agrees; some lineages and most modern psychological astrology hand him to the tenth and to Saturn instead. Find the sign on the cusp, its ruler, and follow that planet for the whole story.
There's also a Lot of the Father: by day, the arc from the Sun to Saturn thrown from the Ascendant; reversed by night; with a switch to Mars-to-Jupiter when Saturn is burned under the Sun's beams (Paulus Alexandrinus, Dorotheus). The medieval world called that same point the Lot of Power, the Lot of Kingdom.
Turn the chart and the line keeps going — the father's father is the fourth from the fourth, your radical seventh. The moderns kept the Sun and added the Sun/Saturn midpoint (Witte's Hamburg School, Ebertin's cosmobiology), the axis where the father shows up as solidity, and sometimes as distance. And the traditions don't even agree on his house: the West buries him in the foundation, while Jyotish (per Komilla Sutton) puts him up in the ninth, the house of dharma and fortune.
He's in there either way. Happy Father's Day.

#fatherday #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #dad

It's party time!
How are you celebrating the longest day of the year?
Sun worshipping?
How are you opening up your table to others?
How will you bring joy?
How will you find illumination?

Comment below✨☀️⭐🌞🌙🦀🌊🐟
Happy SOLSTICE bbs

It's party time!
How are you celebrating the longest day of the year?
Sun worshipping?
How are you opening up your table to others?
How will you bring joy?
How will you find illumination?

Comment below✨☀️⭐🌞🌙🦀🌊🐟
Happy SOLSTICE bbs

What has healed within you?
Anaretic degree
Last degree contemplation and community

#chironintaurus #chiron #astrologersofinstagram #chironinaries

What has healed within you?
Anaretic degree
Last degree contemplation and community

#chironintaurus #chiron #astrologersofinstagram #chironinaries

Venus is at 5° Leo right now, pulled two ways at once: a fire trine reaching toward Neptune and Saturn in Aries, and an opposition to Pluto sitting directly across the sky in Aquarius. Not one aspect — a crossroads.
In the Quabbalistic tarot, Venus is the Empress, and her path is Dalet: the door. On the Tree of Life she's the line drawn between Chokmah and Binah — the supernal Father who is raw force, the supernal Mother who is form — and she's the current that turns one into the other. Look where she actually sits this week: Neptune is the raw, unformed dream; Saturn is the structure that makes it real; Venus passes right between them. The Empress standing in her own doorway, force becoming form.
Turn her toward Neptune and you get the card upright — the Author of Voluptuousness at full volume. Aphrodite born from the foam (and the foam is Neptune), the harvest, abundance, even the Venus of Willendorf, whose softness is storage: fat is surplus held against scarcity. The upright card is the start of a creative project and the will to finish it — Neptune begins, Saturn completes, by the 25th.
Turn her toward Pluto and you get the card reversed — comfort curdled into control, the holding-on that calls itself love. Pluto is conjunct Dabih (4°Aqu25), a Saturn–Venus star: the comfort we're most afraid to lose. The Queen of Pentacles reversed, written in starlight. And the Moon is in Leo too, a step ahead — the two feminine lights the old chart had, crossing the same threshold.
One configuration, two faces of one card. The sky holds the potential. The turn is yours.
Which planet are you walking toward today?
#venus #neptune #pluto #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Venus is at 5° Leo right now, pulled two ways at once: a fire trine reaching toward Neptune and Saturn in Aries, and an opposition to Pluto sitting directly across the sky in Aquarius. Not one aspect — a crossroads.
In the Quabbalistic tarot, Venus is the Empress, and her path is Dalet: the door. On the Tree of Life she's the line drawn between Chokmah and Binah — the supernal Father who is raw force, the supernal Mother who is form — and she's the current that turns one into the other. Look where she actually sits this week: Neptune is the raw, unformed dream; Saturn is the structure that makes it real; Venus passes right between them. The Empress standing in her own doorway, force becoming form.
Turn her toward Neptune and you get the card upright — the Author of Voluptuousness at full volume. Aphrodite born from the foam (and the foam is Neptune), the harvest, abundance, even the Venus of Willendorf, whose softness is storage: fat is surplus held against scarcity. The upright card is the start of a creative project and the will to finish it — Neptune begins, Saturn completes, by the 25th.
Turn her toward Pluto and you get the card reversed — comfort curdled into control, the holding-on that calls itself love. Pluto is conjunct Dabih (4°Aqu25), a Saturn–Venus star: the comfort we're most afraid to lose. The Queen of Pentacles reversed, written in starlight. And the Moon is in Leo too, a step ahead — the two feminine lights the old chart had, crossing the same threshold.
One configuration, two faces of one card. The sky holds the potential. The turn is yours.
Which planet are you walking toward today?
#venus #neptune #pluto #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Chiron sits at the final minute of Aries tonight — 29°56′ — and on June 19 it crosses into Taurus, carrying the wound out of the realm of identity and down into the body.
It's worth remembering what Chiron actually is. Discovered in 1977, it was the first of the centaurs: a small world whose orbit dips just inside Saturn's at one end and reaches out toward Uranus at the other. The bridge between the boundary and the breakthrough — and in the myth, Saturn's own son. Kronos, so afraid of being surpassed by his children that he swallowed them, fathered Chiron in the form of a horse and walked away. Abandoned at birth, the boundary-keeper's son grew into the teacher of heroes — the one whose gift is helping others go further than they believed they could. Born immortal, he took a wound that could neither heal nor kill him. The healer who could mend everyone but himself.
The astronomy keeps the family resemblance. In 2015, astronomers reported evidence that Chiron may carry faint rings of its own — only the second of these little worlds ever found with them. A small echo of its father's crown.
Now the wound leaves Aries (who I am) for Taurus (the flesh, the worth, the ground it was born half-into). And the father is following: Saturn trails in Aries now, and in 2028 it too enters Taurus — meeting Chiron exactly on June 8, 2028, both pressed by Pluto in Aquarius. The one who set the limit and the one left at its edge, in the same degree at last.
Where does your Chiron sit?
#chironintaurus #chiron #babysaturn #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Chiron sits at the final minute of Aries tonight — 29°56′ — and on June 19 it crosses into Taurus, carrying the wound out of the realm of identity and down into the body.
It's worth remembering what Chiron actually is. Discovered in 1977, it was the first of the centaurs: a small world whose orbit dips just inside Saturn's at one end and reaches out toward Uranus at the other. The bridge between the boundary and the breakthrough — and in the myth, Saturn's own son. Kronos, so afraid of being surpassed by his children that he swallowed them, fathered Chiron in the form of a horse and walked away. Abandoned at birth, the boundary-keeper's son grew into the teacher of heroes — the one whose gift is helping others go further than they believed they could. Born immortal, he took a wound that could neither heal nor kill him. The healer who could mend everyone but himself.
The astronomy keeps the family resemblance. In 2015, astronomers reported evidence that Chiron may carry faint rings of its own — only the second of these little worlds ever found with them. A small echo of its father's crown.
Now the wound leaves Aries (who I am) for Taurus (the flesh, the worth, the ground it was born half-into). And the father is following: Saturn trails in Aries now, and in 2028 it too enters Taurus — meeting Chiron exactly on June 8, 2028, both pressed by Pluto in Aquarius. The one who set the limit and the one left at its edge, in the same degree at last.
Where does your Chiron sit?
#chironintaurus #chiron #babysaturn #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — the sign of the body, the land, and the food that comes from it. Taurus is not a quantity sign; it's a quality sign, and Chiron, the wounded healer, will surface the wounds in how we feed ourselves. The timing is uncanny. Since 2018, Uranus — the disruptor — moved through Taurus, upending food itself: lab-grown, engineered, synthetic, the dyes. This year Uranus shifted into Gemini, the sign of the mind and the nervous system — and right on cue we're in a national reckoning over petroleum-based food dyes (Red 3 already revoked, the rest being phased out through 2026), the very dyes research has linked to hyperactivity in some children. What entered the body under Uranus in Taurus is surfacing now in the mind. Meanwhile Chiron in Taurus squares Jupiter and the South Node in Leo — the sign of excess and the few who shine — pointing at the oldest wound of all: we produce more than enough food to feed everyone on earth, we waste roughly a third of it, and people still go hungry. That's not scarcity. It's a wound in how we share. Taurus feels through the senses, so it asks us to feel where our food actually comes from — the soil it was or wasn't grown in, the animal whose last moments may have been terror, as if its life never mattered. Chiron won't let us look away. And that's the point: Chiron brings the wound to the surface and then doesn't heal it for us. We have to look, get specific, get honest about what we put in the body and what it costs. The medicine of Taurus was never more. It was better — realer, grown with reverence, worthy of the body it's meant to keep alive.
#chironintaurus #fooddye #animalrights #worldhunger #taurus

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — the sign of the body, the land, and the food that comes from it. Taurus is not a quantity sign; it's a quality sign, and Chiron, the wounded healer, will surface the wounds in how we feed ourselves. The timing is uncanny. Since 2018, Uranus — the disruptor — moved through Taurus, upending food itself: lab-grown, engineered, synthetic, the dyes. This year Uranus shifted into Gemini, the sign of the mind and the nervous system — and right on cue we're in a national reckoning over petroleum-based food dyes (Red 3 already revoked, the rest being phased out through 2026), the very dyes research has linked to hyperactivity in some children. What entered the body under Uranus in Taurus is surfacing now in the mind. Meanwhile Chiron in Taurus squares Jupiter and the South Node in Leo — the sign of excess and the few who shine — pointing at the oldest wound of all: we produce more than enough food to feed everyone on earth, we waste roughly a third of it, and people still go hungry. That's not scarcity. It's a wound in how we share. Taurus feels through the senses, so it asks us to feel where our food actually comes from — the soil it was or wasn't grown in, the animal whose last moments may have been terror, as if its life never mattered. Chiron won't let us look away. And that's the point: Chiron brings the wound to the surface and then doesn't heal it for us. We have to look, get specific, get honest about what we put in the body and what it costs. The medicine of Taurus was never more. It was better — realer, grown with reverence, worthy of the body it's meant to keep alive.
#chironintaurus #fooddye #animalrights #worldhunger #taurus

Venus crossed into Leo and immediately reached back across the whole sky. This week she sits at the handle of the vessel — the great mixing bowl the outer planets have been forming — and from there she touches every corner of it: a sextile to Uranus in Gemini on the 15th, a trine to Neptune in Aries exact on the 17th (both at 4°), and an opposition to Pluto in Aquarius the same day. One planet, the whole configuration lit up at once.
The trine to Neptune is the luscious one. Venus and Neptune are the most dissolving pair in the sky — beauty that won't stay outside of you. The film you fall into, the painting you forget your body in front of, the meal, the aged wine, the music that lands somewhere under language. That moment where you can't find the seam between the beautiful thing and yourself. Fire to fire, Leo to Aries, flowing without friction.
She's the evening star right now, climbing toward greatest elongation — the first light after sunset. And there's an old rhyme to all of it: Aphrodite was born from the sea, rose from the foam already beautiful. A trine to Neptune is Venus going home to the water she came from. The Greeks mixed wine and water in a krater — a vessel — and gathered around it to talk about love itself. Plato set his Symposium there. Botticelli painted her arriving on the shell.
It's not the week for spreadsheets or tidy answers. It's the week to pour in the idealism, the longing, the sweetness — and to let yourself escape into something beautiful for a little while.
For those who love the Venus star cycle and her turns as evening and morning star, Demetra George's work on the synodic Venus is a gorgeous place to go deeper.
Where did beauty dissolve you this week? Tell me below. 🌊
Link in bio if you'd like to work together.

Venus crossed into Leo and immediately reached back across the whole sky. This week she sits at the handle of the vessel — the great mixing bowl the outer planets have been forming — and from there she touches every corner of it: a sextile to Uranus in Gemini on the 15th, a trine to Neptune in Aries exact on the 17th (both at 4°), and an opposition to Pluto in Aquarius the same day. One planet, the whole configuration lit up at once.
The trine to Neptune is the luscious one. Venus and Neptune are the most dissolving pair in the sky — beauty that won't stay outside of you. The film you fall into, the painting you forget your body in front of, the meal, the aged wine, the music that lands somewhere under language. That moment where you can't find the seam between the beautiful thing and yourself. Fire to fire, Leo to Aries, flowing without friction.
She's the evening star right now, climbing toward greatest elongation — the first light after sunset. And there's an old rhyme to all of it: Aphrodite was born from the sea, rose from the foam already beautiful. A trine to Neptune is Venus going home to the water she came from. The Greeks mixed wine and water in a krater — a vessel — and gathered around it to talk about love itself. Plato set his Symposium there. Botticelli painted her arriving on the shell.
It's not the week for spreadsheets or tidy answers. It's the week to pour in the idealism, the longing, the sweetness — and to let yourself escape into something beautiful for a little while.
For those who love the Venus star cycle and her turns as evening and morning star, Demetra George's work on the synodic Venus is a gorgeous place to go deeper.
Where did beauty dissolve you this week? Tell me below. 🌊
Link in bio if you'd like to work together.

This is a week that begins in the dark and ends in fire.
The New Moon in Gemini has just passed (24°03′, June 14). The Moon empties herself in the last of the twins, then crosses home into Cancer — her own domicile — and begins to fill. Mercury, who rules that lunation, reaches his greatest eastern elongation as evening star on June 15: the furthest he travels from the Sun all season, the highest perch he'll climb.
And then Venus, freshly crowned in Leo (June 13), walks the length of the sky — sextile Uranus in Gemini (June 15), a lush trine to Neptune in Aries (June 16–17), then face to face with Pluto in Aquarius (June 17). Midweek the Moon catches her: on June 17 the Moon enters Leo, conjoins Venus at 05° Leo, and the two oppose Pluto together. Venus opposite Pluto holds the obsessive, difficult side of love — but it's also the gemstone at the bottom of the cave, the one that needed dark and pressure to form. Beauty willing to go all the way down. Beauty willing to push what we're allowed to call beautiful at all.
Just past the weekend she finishes the walk — a trine to Saturn (June 25), the other half of the Aries pair. Neptune is the dream; Saturn is the dream that stops dreaming and starts making. Venus lays her gold on both.
Each of those bodies — Uranus, Neptune, Saturn, Pluto — is a corner of the outer-planet configuration I keep calling the vessel (a framing extended from André Barbault's work on the cycle). It earns the name because it's still being made: its walls are slow planets that only just changed signs, the clay still soft. When Mars touches it, it reads as a crucible. When Venus in Leo touches it, she works it like a potter — pressing in a handle, laying on the glaze — until it becomes an urn, the decorated kratēr set at the center of the room.
The Moon closes the week in Virgo (June 19), where the gold settles into something usable. A week that starts empty and ends gold. Watch what you make beautiful.
#venus #venusinleo #thevessel #leo #astrology

This is a week that begins in the dark and ends in fire.
The New Moon in Gemini has just passed (24°03′, June 14). The Moon empties herself in the last of the twins, then crosses home into Cancer — her own domicile — and begins to fill. Mercury, who rules that lunation, reaches his greatest eastern elongation as evening star on June 15: the furthest he travels from the Sun all season, the highest perch he'll climb.
And then Venus, freshly crowned in Leo (June 13), walks the length of the sky — sextile Uranus in Gemini (June 15), a lush trine to Neptune in Aries (June 16–17), then face to face with Pluto in Aquarius (June 17). Midweek the Moon catches her: on June 17 the Moon enters Leo, conjoins Venus at 05° Leo, and the two oppose Pluto together. Venus opposite Pluto holds the obsessive, difficult side of love — but it's also the gemstone at the bottom of the cave, the one that needed dark and pressure to form. Beauty willing to go all the way down. Beauty willing to push what we're allowed to call beautiful at all.
Just past the weekend she finishes the walk — a trine to Saturn (June 25), the other half of the Aries pair. Neptune is the dream; Saturn is the dream that stops dreaming and starts making. Venus lays her gold on both.
Each of those bodies — Uranus, Neptune, Saturn, Pluto — is a corner of the outer-planet configuration I keep calling the vessel (a framing extended from André Barbault's work on the cycle). It earns the name because it's still being made: its walls are slow planets that only just changed signs, the clay still soft. When Mars touches it, it reads as a crucible. When Venus in Leo touches it, she works it like a potter — pressing in a handle, laying on the glaze — until it becomes an urn, the decorated kratēr set at the center of the room.
The Moon closes the week in Virgo (June 19), where the gold settles into something usable. A week that starts empty and ends gold. Watch what you make beautiful.
#venus #venusinleo #thevessel #leo #astrology

On July 20, Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius — the one against the many across the wheel. One week later, on July 27, the lunar nodes lock onto that same axis: South Node into Leo, North Node into Aquarius. The opposition gets pinned to the spine of fate.
This week, with Jupiter at the threshold of Leo, Elon Musk became the first trillionaire in history — worth more than the next four richest people on Earth combined. That is Jupiter in Leo: the Midas touch. Remember how Midas ends — everything he touches turns to gold, until he can't eat.
But the South Node is the place of release — the tail of the dragon. What it touches, it loosens; it asks you to let go. Jupiter swells the solar self to its brightest right at that door. The higher the inflation, the steeper the descent. This is the shape of a fall from grace.
We have seen this sky before. The last time Pluto moved through Aquarius — roughly 1778–1798 — was the Age of Revolutions. In 1789, with Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius (the exact configuration of this July 20), the French Revolution broke open. The guillotine fell, the divine right of kings began to end, and out of that same Aquarius came three words: liberté, égalité, fraternité. Pluto only returned to Aquarius in 2024 — the first time in over two centuries.
At the far end sits Aquarius — furthest from the warmth of the Sun. Pluto is there: Ploutōn, "the rich one," god of the underworld and of wealth, because everything precious comes up from below. And the wealth isn't only gold anymore. It's the system we built that runs on its own — the machine learning to think. Pluto in Aquarius is power moving into the network, into AI — the thing none of us fully holds and all of us now live inside. Not just who has the money, but what the money has become.
But Jupiter has another face. It is the great benefic — generosity itself, the open hand that gives from abundance. The very placement that built the fortune could pour it back out. Maybe this time it does. Probably it won't. But the sky always leaves that door open.
So the question isn't only who has the most. It's: is this okay? What do we actually value — a

On July 20, Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius — the one against the many across the wheel. One week later, on July 27, the lunar nodes lock onto that same axis: South Node into Leo, North Node into Aquarius. The opposition gets pinned to the spine of fate.
This week, with Jupiter at the threshold of Leo, Elon Musk became the first trillionaire in history — worth more than the next four richest people on Earth combined. That is Jupiter in Leo: the Midas touch. Remember how Midas ends — everything he touches turns to gold, until he can't eat.
But the South Node is the place of release — the tail of the dragon. What it touches, it loosens; it asks you to let go. Jupiter swells the solar self to its brightest right at that door. The higher the inflation, the steeper the descent. This is the shape of a fall from grace.
We have seen this sky before. The last time Pluto moved through Aquarius — roughly 1778–1798 — was the Age of Revolutions. In 1789, with Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius (the exact configuration of this July 20), the French Revolution broke open. The guillotine fell, the divine right of kings began to end, and out of that same Aquarius came three words: liberté, égalité, fraternité. Pluto only returned to Aquarius in 2024 — the first time in over two centuries.
At the far end sits Aquarius — furthest from the warmth of the Sun. Pluto is there: Ploutōn, "the rich one," god of the underworld and of wealth, because everything precious comes up from below. And the wealth isn't only gold anymore. It's the system we built that runs on its own — the machine learning to think. Pluto in Aquarius is power moving into the network, into AI — the thing none of us fully holds and all of us now live inside. Not just who has the money, but what the money has become.
But Jupiter has another face. It is the great benefic — generosity itself, the open hand that gives from abundance. The very placement that built the fortune could pour it back out. Maybe this time it does. Probably it won't. But the sky always leaves that door open.
So the question isn't only who has the most. It's: is this okay? What do we actually value — a

One degree, four traditions, one image. The new moon falls at 24°03′ Gemini, and every layer of that single degree points the same way.
The decan: the last third of Gemini belongs to the Sun, by the old Chaldean order — so this Sun–Moon conjunction lands in the Sun's own face. And the old decan image for these ten degrees, handed down in the magicians' tables, is a man in armor with a bow and quiver — an archer, a hunter. It's Orion, the very figure the new moon is sitting on; in these days the Sun rides just above his head, wearing him like a crown, right before the Solstice tips it off his shoulders.
The tarot built on these decans names this same slice the Ten of Swords — "Ruin," in the Golden Dawn and Crowley's Thoth. It reads grim, but in context it's the end of a cycle of thought: the overactive mind run as far as it can go, the darkest hour that's also the hour before dawn.
The bound: the final degrees of Gemini are Saturn's, by the Egyptian terms — the planet of limits and time. And the Sabian symbol for the degree, from Marc Edmund Jones and Dane Rudhyar: a gardener trimming large palm trees. Rudhyar reads it almost too perfectly — the intellect is a tropical plant, wild to grow in every direction; the gardener doesn't stop the growth, he shapes it, prunes it, so the tree can hold its own weight.
The Sun's face. An armored archer. The Ten of Swords. Saturn's bound. A gardener with the shears. Hellenistic, Egyptian, Renaissance magic, and twentieth-century vision — none of them in conversation, all saying the same gentle, ruthless thing: the wild mind has reached its edge; cut it back, shape it, let the overgrowth fall so something can stand. Which is exactly what a new moon is for — the dark before the green — especially with Mercury about to turn retrograde this month.
🌱 What needs pruning before it's ready?
#newmoon #gemini #decan #rudhyar #astrology

One degree, four traditions, one image. The new moon falls at 24°03′ Gemini, and every layer of that single degree points the same way.
The decan: the last third of Gemini belongs to the Sun, by the old Chaldean order — so this Sun–Moon conjunction lands in the Sun's own face. And the old decan image for these ten degrees, handed down in the magicians' tables, is a man in armor with a bow and quiver — an archer, a hunter. It's Orion, the very figure the new moon is sitting on; in these days the Sun rides just above his head, wearing him like a crown, right before the Solstice tips it off his shoulders.
The tarot built on these decans names this same slice the Ten of Swords — "Ruin," in the Golden Dawn and Crowley's Thoth. It reads grim, but in context it's the end of a cycle of thought: the overactive mind run as far as it can go, the darkest hour that's also the hour before dawn.
The bound: the final degrees of Gemini are Saturn's, by the Egyptian terms — the planet of limits and time. And the Sabian symbol for the degree, from Marc Edmund Jones and Dane Rudhyar: a gardener trimming large palm trees. Rudhyar reads it almost too perfectly — the intellect is a tropical plant, wild to grow in every direction; the gardener doesn't stop the growth, he shapes it, prunes it, so the tree can hold its own weight.
The Sun's face. An armored archer. The Ten of Swords. Saturn's bound. A gardener with the shears. Hellenistic, Egyptian, Renaissance magic, and twentieth-century vision — none of them in conversation, all saying the same gentle, ruthless thing: the wild mind has reached its edge; cut it back, shape it, let the overgrowth fall so something can stand. Which is exactly what a new moon is for — the dark before the green — especially with Mercury about to turn retrograde this month.
🌱 What needs pruning before it's ready?
#newmoon #gemini #decan #rudhyar #astrology

Sunday's new moon at 24°03′ Gemini doesn't fall on empty sky. It lands on the body of Orion — the Hunter, the Giant, the most recognizable figure in the night sky — almost exactly conjunct Meissa, the star of his head, and beside Alnilam, the bright center of the three belt stars: Mintaka, Alnilam, Alnitak. The belt the whole world named — the Three Kings, the Three Sisters, Jacob's Staff — the row sailors steered by and farmers planted by for thousands of years. In Egyptian sky-lore this was Sah, walking beside Osiris, god of death and return — the grain buried in the dark to rise again. A new-moon idea exactly: something goes under before it grows.
Ptolemy gave Orion's bright shoulders the nature of Mars and Mercury — strength wedded to mind, the warrior and the messenger in one body; Vivian Robson and Bernadette Brady carry the reading forward. So this is no soft, dreamy Gemini chatter — it's a mind that can forge, words that build. Though the poets also called him stormy Orion: raw power, weather with no aim. A hunter's whole art is choosing where to point it.
And there's a far side to all this. Directly opposite the new moon — across the entire sky — sits Black Moon Lilith, in Sagittarius: not a planet, but the far point of the Moon's own orbit. In the old story she's the first woman, who refused to be tamed and left the garden rather than be made small — the unbargained-with, the unashamed. The Archer's sign holds her now, the wild truth-teller. So the whole sky becomes one axis: the Hunter aiming the clever, well-made word; the wild one across from him, who cares only for true. As you plant the careful seed this week, the question comes from the far side of the sky — is it honest, or just nicely said?
A note on precision: a real opposition, but not partile. Mean Lilith sits at 19°45′ Sagittarius (≈4.3° off exact), True Lilith at 21°32′ (≈2.5° off). Close enough to feel across the Gemini–Sagittarius axis. Use whichever you work with.
✨ Aim — and mean it. The wild one already knows if you do.
#orion #blackmoonlillith #astrology #newmoon #gemini

Sunday's new moon at 24°03′ Gemini doesn't fall on empty sky. It lands on the body of Orion — the Hunter, the Giant, the most recognizable figure in the night sky — almost exactly conjunct Meissa, the star of his head, and beside Alnilam, the bright center of the three belt stars: Mintaka, Alnilam, Alnitak. The belt the whole world named — the Three Kings, the Three Sisters, Jacob's Staff — the row sailors steered by and farmers planted by for thousands of years. In Egyptian sky-lore this was Sah, walking beside Osiris, god of death and return — the grain buried in the dark to rise again. A new-moon idea exactly: something goes under before it grows.
Ptolemy gave Orion's bright shoulders the nature of Mars and Mercury — strength wedded to mind, the warrior and the messenger in one body; Vivian Robson and Bernadette Brady carry the reading forward. So this is no soft, dreamy Gemini chatter — it's a mind that can forge, words that build. Though the poets also called him stormy Orion: raw power, weather with no aim. A hunter's whole art is choosing where to point it.
And there's a far side to all this. Directly opposite the new moon — across the entire sky — sits Black Moon Lilith, in Sagittarius: not a planet, but the far point of the Moon's own orbit. In the old story she's the first woman, who refused to be tamed and left the garden rather than be made small — the unbargained-with, the unashamed. The Archer's sign holds her now, the wild truth-teller. So the whole sky becomes one axis: the Hunter aiming the clever, well-made word; the wild one across from him, who cares only for true. As you plant the careful seed this week, the question comes from the far side of the sky — is it honest, or just nicely said?
A note on precision: a real opposition, but not partile. Mean Lilith sits at 19°45′ Sagittarius (≈4.3° off exact), True Lilith at 21°32′ (≈2.5° off). Close enough to feel across the Gemini–Sagittarius axis. Use whichever you work with.
✨ Aim — and mean it. The wild one already knows if you do.
#orion #blackmoonlillith #astrology #newmoon #gemini

This Sunday night, June 14th, the Moon goes dark at 24°03′ Gemini — the new moon, the fertile, lightless turn the old astrologers read as pure potential. Plant here, the teaching goes, because it's built to grow.
What's unusual is how quiet it is. By the classical aspects it's nearly unaspected: Mercury and Jupiter in Cancer stand in aversion — turned away — and so does Mars in Taurus; the wide sextiles left from Saturn and Venus are too distant to close. The only planet sharing Gemini is Uranus, within half a degree of the bending of the nodes (2°52′ Gemini), the stress point of the nodal axis. A seed dropped into an open field, with the planet of the unexpected at the gate.
The ruler tells the rest: Mercury is back in Cancer — tender, nostalgic, memory-soaked — and stations retrograde June 29th at 26° Cancer, right on Jupiter's last degrees. We plant just before the messenger turns to walk back through his own words. Gemini gathers and synthesizes brilliantly, but it always asks one thing: is what you're planting actually rooted — real sources, a line you can trace?
So far, so quiet. But aspects aren't the only way to read a sky. On the 90° dial — the midpoint method of Alfred Witte's Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin's cosmobiology — this "empty" moon isn't empty at all. The Sun and Moon sit within half a degree of the Mars/Jupiter midpoint: among the most fortunate combinations there is — successful work, fruitful effort, new ventures, even birth. Underneath runs the Saturn/Node midpoint — patience and a little duty in whatever you begin — with a whisper of Mercury/Uranus, the sudden insight, the most Gemini note of all.
Quiet on the surface. Anything but, underneath. With thanks to Catherine Urban's Mars-Jupiter work, and to the Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin.
🌑 What are you planting in the dark?
#newmooningemini #newmoon #gemini #astrology #uranianastrology

This Sunday night, June 14th, the Moon goes dark at 24°03′ Gemini — the new moon, the fertile, lightless turn the old astrologers read as pure potential. Plant here, the teaching goes, because it's built to grow.
What's unusual is how quiet it is. By the classical aspects it's nearly unaspected: Mercury and Jupiter in Cancer stand in aversion — turned away — and so does Mars in Taurus; the wide sextiles left from Saturn and Venus are too distant to close. The only planet sharing Gemini is Uranus, within half a degree of the bending of the nodes (2°52′ Gemini), the stress point of the nodal axis. A seed dropped into an open field, with the planet of the unexpected at the gate.
The ruler tells the rest: Mercury is back in Cancer — tender, nostalgic, memory-soaked — and stations retrograde June 29th at 26° Cancer, right on Jupiter's last degrees. We plant just before the messenger turns to walk back through his own words. Gemini gathers and synthesizes brilliantly, but it always asks one thing: is what you're planting actually rooted — real sources, a line you can trace?
So far, so quiet. But aspects aren't the only way to read a sky. On the 90° dial — the midpoint method of Alfred Witte's Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin's cosmobiology — this "empty" moon isn't empty at all. The Sun and Moon sit within half a degree of the Mars/Jupiter midpoint: among the most fortunate combinations there is — successful work, fruitful effort, new ventures, even birth. Underneath runs the Saturn/Node midpoint — patience and a little duty in whatever you begin — with a whisper of Mercury/Uranus, the sudden insight, the most Gemini note of all.
Quiet on the surface. Anything but, underneath. With thanks to Catherine Urban's Mars-Jupiter work, and to the Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin.
🌑 What are you planting in the dark?
#newmooningemini #newmoon #gemini #astrology #uranianastrology

Please join me for this webinar that is the culmination of all my Scorpionic ♏ deep diving into the Barbault basket and what I am terming, the Vessel. We will look at Barbault prediction why he might have said what he says, break down the movements of the outer planets and explain why this is astrology that has never happened before. Incorporating Hellenistic, medieval/Renaissance, Arabic, Babylonian, modern and cosmobiology /Uranian perspectives - let's explore this vessel together. There will also be a few live on the spot charts read during the class so you can see how I weave the story of one's personal vessel in their chart.
Limited seats.
Sign up through linktree in bio
Or by visiting my website www.celestialhealingarts.org
Hope to see you there.

Please join me for this webinar that is the culmination of all my Scorpionic ♏ deep diving into the Barbault basket and what I am terming, the Vessel. We will look at Barbault prediction why he might have said what he says, break down the movements of the outer planets and explain why this is astrology that has never happened before. Incorporating Hellenistic, medieval/Renaissance, Arabic, Babylonian, modern and cosmobiology /Uranian perspectives - let's explore this vessel together. There will also be a few live on the spot charts read during the class so you can see how I weave the story of one's personal vessel in their chart.
Limited seats.
Sign up through linktree in bio
Or by visiting my website www.celestialhealingarts.org
Hope to see you there.

Right now Uranus stands at 2°43′ Gemini, exactly square the Moon's nodes at 2°43′ Pisces and Virgo — what the tradition calls the bending. The word reaches back through Ptolemy to the Greek kampsē: the same word used for the turning-post at the end of the racecourse, where the runner had to wheel hard and commit. Not a gentle curve. A pivot — a point where a direction has to be chosen, and will not wait.
The nodes are never read alone. They are the head and the tail of the dragon — the head reaching forward into the hunger for more, the tail the long letting go of what we were born already knowing. When a planet reaches the bending, it is held between the two and squared against the whole length of fate at once. It cannot stay where it stood. And the planet standing there now is Uranus — the one who never arrives the way we were watching for, who does nothing quietly, who asks for the answer now.
This is the northern bending, so the pull is forward: toward the country you have not visited, the self you have not yet been. In cosmobiology the nodes also carry our alliances and blood-ties, the people we are bound to — and Uranus here can be the stranger who turns out not to be a stranger, the meeting you did not plan.
Then on Sunday, a New Moon at 24° Gemini, the very sign Uranus is setting alight — a seed pressed into ground already being turned over.
Where do 0–6° of the mutable signs fall in your chart? That is where the dragon is asking you to turn.
Free Uranus in Gemini workbook at the link. ♅
Link in bio also to book (the best way to support my ongoing work and research at the moment )

Right now Uranus stands at 2°43′ Gemini, exactly square the Moon's nodes at 2°43′ Pisces and Virgo — what the tradition calls the bending. The word reaches back through Ptolemy to the Greek kampsē: the same word used for the turning-post at the end of the racecourse, where the runner had to wheel hard and commit. Not a gentle curve. A pivot — a point where a direction has to be chosen, and will not wait.
The nodes are never read alone. They are the head and the tail of the dragon — the head reaching forward into the hunger for more, the tail the long letting go of what we were born already knowing. When a planet reaches the bending, it is held between the two and squared against the whole length of fate at once. It cannot stay where it stood. And the planet standing there now is Uranus — the one who never arrives the way we were watching for, who does nothing quietly, who asks for the answer now.
This is the northern bending, so the pull is forward: toward the country you have not visited, the self you have not yet been. In cosmobiology the nodes also carry our alliances and blood-ties, the people we are bound to — and Uranus here can be the stranger who turns out not to be a stranger, the meeting you did not plan.
Then on Sunday, a New Moon at 24° Gemini, the very sign Uranus is setting alight — a seed pressed into ground already being turned over.
Where do 0–6° of the mutable signs fall in your chart? That is where the dragon is asking you to turn.
Free Uranus in Gemini workbook at the link. ♅
Link in bio also to book (the best way to support my ongoing work and research at the moment )

Catherine Urban and I sat down to talk about Leo ♌ 🦁. Jupiter ingress, eclipses going into Leo and Aquarius, Jupiter trine Saturn (and trine Neptune and sextile Uranus), and tht upcoming Mars retrograde.
Catherine is amazing at synthesizing and prediction. She is a creative and beautiful person and it was an honor to have her on!

Catherine Urban and I sat down to talk about Leo ♌ 🦁. Jupiter ingress, eclipses going into Leo and Aquarius, Jupiter trine Saturn (and trine Neptune and sextile Uranus), and tht upcoming Mars retrograde.
Catherine is amazing at synthesizing and prediction. She is a creative and beautiful person and it was an honor to have her on!

Step outside just after sunset and the brightest point in the western sky is Venus, the evening star, and right now she is climbing. Venus never strays more than about 47 degrees from the Sun; greatest elongation is the moment she reaches the end of that leash, the top of her arc, the highest and longest she lingers after dusk. She reaches it in mid-August, near 8 degrees of Libra. Through Leo this summer we catch her on the way up, a little higher and a little brighter each night.
The old Greeks watched this light and saw two beings. The one that followed the Sun down at dusk they called Hesperos, the evening star; the one that rose ahead of the Sun at dawn, Phosphoros, the bringer of light. For centuries they were two gods with two names, until it was understood as one wanderer, one Venus, setting in the west and returning in the east.
After she peaks, she falls. Venus stations retrograde in early October and drops back toward the Sun until, in late October at the first degree of Scorpio, she passes between us and the Sun and disappears, swallowed by the light. The oldest stories named this the descent: Inanna, Ishtar, the queen of heaven going down through the gates of the underworld, surrendering something at each gate until nothing is left to see. The sign she goes down through is Scorpio itself, the veil. She does not stay under. She rises again on the far side of the Sun, before dawn, reborn as the morning star.
So while she is still here in the evening, bright and climbing toward her height, it is worth asking what in your own life is near the top of its arc, and whether you would have the grace, when the time comes, to let it go down, trusting it returns as light.
Link in bio to book.
#venusretrograde #ianna #venus #astrology

Step outside just after sunset and the brightest point in the western sky is Venus, the evening star, and right now she is climbing. Venus never strays more than about 47 degrees from the Sun; greatest elongation is the moment she reaches the end of that leash, the top of her arc, the highest and longest she lingers after dusk. She reaches it in mid-August, near 8 degrees of Libra. Through Leo this summer we catch her on the way up, a little higher and a little brighter each night.
The old Greeks watched this light and saw two beings. The one that followed the Sun down at dusk they called Hesperos, the evening star; the one that rose ahead of the Sun at dawn, Phosphoros, the bringer of light. For centuries they were two gods with two names, until it was understood as one wanderer, one Venus, setting in the west and returning in the east.
After she peaks, she falls. Venus stations retrograde in early October and drops back toward the Sun until, in late October at the first degree of Scorpio, she passes between us and the Sun and disappears, swallowed by the light. The oldest stories named this the descent: Inanna, Ishtar, the queen of heaven going down through the gates of the underworld, surrendering something at each gate until nothing is left to see. The sign she goes down through is Scorpio itself, the veil. She does not stay under. She rises again on the far side of the Sun, before dawn, reborn as the morning star.
So while she is still here in the evening, bright and climbing toward her height, it is worth asking what in your own life is near the top of its arc, and whether you would have the grace, when the time comes, to let it go down, trusting it returns as light.
Link in bio to book.
#venusretrograde #ianna #venus #astrology

From June 13 to July 9, Venus moves through Leo, the Sun's own sign, and takes on its light. Picture the Sun's glyph: a circle with a single point burning at its center, the self at the heart of its own world, the still point the whole chart turns around. Venus carries her gifts to that center now — pleasure, beauty, comfort, love, taste and touch, balance and grace — and the center sets them ablaze.
This is the radiant Venus, the expressive one. In Leo she wants quality and she wants to be adored; magnetism runs high, standards rise, and luxury, romance and a little drama travel with her. Hers is the old marriage of love and art, of warmth and grace woven straight into the sense of self. Put that in Leo and you get beauty unafraid to be caught enjoying itself, childlike, lavish, alive for the joy of being alive.
The timing tells its own story. Venus slipped into Leo on June 13, ahead of Jupiter, who enters at the end of the month. She is the herald, the one who runs in first, and while she is there she brushes the same outer planets Jupiter will reach in July — Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and Saturn — lighting the wires before the great benefic arrives.
So Venus in Leo leans in and asks: what part of yourself have you kept dimmed? Where have you been the supporting role in your own life? Who is the version of you that takes up space without apology, the one you have learned to call too much? She stays only until July 9. While she does, let yourself be too much. That was always the point.
Link in bio to book.
#venus #venusinleo #leo #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

From June 13 to July 9, Venus moves through Leo, the Sun's own sign, and takes on its light. Picture the Sun's glyph: a circle with a single point burning at its center, the self at the heart of its own world, the still point the whole chart turns around. Venus carries her gifts to that center now — pleasure, beauty, comfort, love, taste and touch, balance and grace — and the center sets them ablaze.
This is the radiant Venus, the expressive one. In Leo she wants quality and she wants to be adored; magnetism runs high, standards rise, and luxury, romance and a little drama travel with her. Hers is the old marriage of love and art, of warmth and grace woven straight into the sense of self. Put that in Leo and you get beauty unafraid to be caught enjoying itself, childlike, lavish, alive for the joy of being alive.
The timing tells its own story. Venus slipped into Leo on June 13, ahead of Jupiter, who enters at the end of the month. She is the herald, the one who runs in first, and while she is there she brushes the same outer planets Jupiter will reach in July — Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and Saturn — lighting the wires before the great benefic arrives.
So Venus in Leo leans in and asks: what part of yourself have you kept dimmed? Where have you been the supporting role in your own life? Who is the version of you that takes up space without apology, the one you have learned to call too much? She stays only until July 9. While she does, let yourself be too much. That was always the point.
Link in bio to book.
#venus #venusinleo #leo #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

On June 30, Jupiter enters Leo, the temple of the Sun, the one sign the great light rules outright. It has not been here since 2014, and it stays about thirteen months. What makes this passage rare is that Jupiter does not arrive alone. It becomes the switchboard, and the whole sky wires into it.
Leo is fixed fire: the fire of the hearth, the production of light in the world, the warmth that wants to make something lasting enough to hold its flame. It rules the heart in the body and in the chart, the radiant center the whole system turns around, and it governs performance, play, and the childlike spirit that creates for the joy of it.
From Leo, Jupiter reaches across the sky, and in July it all converges. It opposes Pluto in Aquarius; Ebertin reads Jupiter and Pluto as prosperity built through hidden means, the buried labor that surfaces all at once, and the opposition brings it into the light. In nearly the same breath, July 20 to 21, Jupiter trines Neptune in Aries and sextiles Uranus in Gemini, all within a breath of 4 degrees. Ebertin called Jupiter and Uranus the "thank god" contact, sudden freedom and unforeseen breakthrough; Jupiter and Neptune lift vision and faith to their height, with the old caution that not every dream is true. The entire outer field, discharging through a single sign.
Then August. A total solar eclipse at 20 degrees of Leo on the 12th, and on the 31st the opening trine of the Jupiter and Saturn cycle, Leo to Aries, the first harmony since their 2020 conjunction in Aquarius, the one that opened the age of air. A cycle born in air, reaching its first trine in fire: expansion meeting architecture.
So find Leo in your own chart. Whatever house the lion rules for you is the room all of this happens in, the part of your life about to fire off and stay lit for thirteen months. What is yours to be seen doing, and what stays yours alone?
Soon I will be sitting down with Catherine Urban to take this further. And Venus has already slipped into Leo ahead of all of it, more on her in her own reel.
Link in bio to book.
#jupiterinleo #jupiter #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #leo

On June 30, Jupiter enters Leo, the temple of the Sun, the one sign the great light rules outright. It has not been here since 2014, and it stays about thirteen months. What makes this passage rare is that Jupiter does not arrive alone. It becomes the switchboard, and the whole sky wires into it.
Leo is fixed fire: the fire of the hearth, the production of light in the world, the warmth that wants to make something lasting enough to hold its flame. It rules the heart in the body and in the chart, the radiant center the whole system turns around, and it governs performance, play, and the childlike spirit that creates for the joy of it.
From Leo, Jupiter reaches across the sky, and in July it all converges. It opposes Pluto in Aquarius; Ebertin reads Jupiter and Pluto as prosperity built through hidden means, the buried labor that surfaces all at once, and the opposition brings it into the light. In nearly the same breath, July 20 to 21, Jupiter trines Neptune in Aries and sextiles Uranus in Gemini, all within a breath of 4 degrees. Ebertin called Jupiter and Uranus the "thank god" contact, sudden freedom and unforeseen breakthrough; Jupiter and Neptune lift vision and faith to their height, with the old caution that not every dream is true. The entire outer field, discharging through a single sign.
Then August. A total solar eclipse at 20 degrees of Leo on the 12th, and on the 31st the opening trine of the Jupiter and Saturn cycle, Leo to Aries, the first harmony since their 2020 conjunction in Aquarius, the one that opened the age of air. A cycle born in air, reaching its first trine in fire: expansion meeting architecture.
So find Leo in your own chart. Whatever house the lion rules for you is the room all of this happens in, the part of your life about to fire off and stay lit for thirteen months. What is yours to be seen doing, and what stays yours alone?
Soon I will be sitting down with Catherine Urban to take this further. And Venus has already slipped into Leo ahead of all of it, more on her in her own reel.
Link in bio to book.
#jupiterinleo #jupiter #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #leo

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The longest leg of the talent triangle — the spine of the vessel — is Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, and it may be the most consequential aspect in the sky right now.
Uranus is the awakener: invention, the sudden break, the lightning that rewrites what came before. In Gemini it works through mind, language and information — and in the body, Gemini rules the nervous system itself, the nerves and synapses and wiring. Uranus in Gemini is electricity moving through the nerves: a rewiring. Pluto is death and rebirth, depth, power and what lies buried beneath it; in Aquarius it transforms the collective — networks, systems, technology, the human grid. A trine binds these two currents into one: the reinvention of how we communicate and the death-and-rebirth of the systems that connect us, moving together. The nervous system of the world, rebuilt at the root.
It's a cycle, not an event. Uranus and Pluto met at their conjunction in the mid-1960s and came to a square in the early 2010s — the decade everything cracked open through a screen. Now, for the first time in that cycle, they reach a trine. The same transformative current, but where the square cracked, the trine flows: the difference between a wound and a channel. This is part of why André Barbault could call the larger configuration benefic — not because Pluto is ever gentle, but because the deepest change in the sky finally has somewhere to go.
Part three of the series.
#uranustrinepluto #uranusingemini #plutoinaquarius #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

The longest leg of the talent triangle — the spine of the vessel — is Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, and it may be the most consequential aspect in the sky right now.
Uranus is the awakener: invention, the sudden break, the lightning that rewrites what came before. In Gemini it works through mind, language and information — and in the body, Gemini rules the nervous system itself, the nerves and synapses and wiring. Uranus in Gemini is electricity moving through the nerves: a rewiring. Pluto is death and rebirth, depth, power and what lies buried beneath it; in Aquarius it transforms the collective — networks, systems, technology, the human grid. A trine binds these two currents into one: the reinvention of how we communicate and the death-and-rebirth of the systems that connect us, moving together. The nervous system of the world, rebuilt at the root.
It's a cycle, not an event. Uranus and Pluto met at their conjunction in the mid-1960s and came to a square in the early 2010s — the decade everything cracked open through a screen. Now, for the first time in that cycle, they reach a trine. The same transformative current, but where the square cracked, the trine flows: the difference between a wound and a channel. This is part of why André Barbault could call the larger configuration benefic — not because Pluto is ever gentle, but because the deepest change in the sky finally has somewhere to go.
Part three of the series.
#uranustrinepluto #uranusingemini #plutoinaquarius #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Mark July 29, 2026. Jupiter cazimi — the greater benefic taken into the heart of the Sun, at 6° Leo, in the Sun's own sign. The peak blessing of the whole transit. It lands in Leo's Saturn-ruled first face, so this is the crown you earn, not the one you're handed — glory with a spine. If there's one thing you want to begin this year, begin it here. (4 of 7.) Save this so it finds you in July.
Let me below what you will launch or what you are being more playful creative and bold around?

Mark July 29, 2026. Jupiter cazimi — the greater benefic taken into the heart of the Sun, at 6° Leo, in the Sun's own sign. The peak blessing of the whole transit. It lands in Leo's Saturn-ruled first face, so this is the crown you earn, not the one you're handed — glory with a spine. If there's one thing you want to begin this year, begin it here. (4 of 7.) Save this so it finds you in July.
Let me below what you will launch or what you are being more playful creative and bold around?

Leo proposes a sovereign; Aquarius — the crowd, the network, the many — decides whether to keep one. That axis runs through every Jupiter-in-Leo year, and in 2026 it's electric: Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius; the individual answers to the collective at full intensity. Where, in your own chart, does that conversation between the one and the many live?
#jupiterinleo #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Leo proposes a sovereign; Aquarius — the crowd, the network, the many — decides whether to keep one. That axis runs through every Jupiter-in-Leo year, and in 2026 it's electric: Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius; the individual answers to the collective at full intensity. Where, in your own chart, does that conversation between the one and the many live?
#jupiterinleo #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Once every twelve years, Jupiter moves through Leo — and when it does, the sky makes an unmistakable offer: more. More creative courage. More radiance. More willingness to be seen, to play, to inhabit the full warmth of your own life rather than watching it from the wings.
Jupiter entered Leo on June 29, 2026, and it will stay through July 2027. That's thirteen months of the most generously expansive, theatrically alive, heart-forward energy available in the astrological year. It is also, for many of us, thirteen months of confronting exactly why we have been playing small.
The Stage Awaits was written for that confrontation — and for the gorgeous opportunity on the other side of it.
This richly designed, beautifully formatted workbook offers three complete frameworks for working with Jupiter in Leo:
For therapists and those doing inner work — a CBT-informed section on the visibility wound, the inner critic as audience, and the worthiness blocks that this transit reliably surfaces. With three original worksheets including The Visibility Inventory, Meeting the Inner Critic, and The Worthiness Audit.
For healers and somatic practitioners — a full chakra mapping of Jupiter in Leo's energy through the body, with specific embodiment practices for opening the heart and spine, voice and sound work, play-in-the-body practices, crystal allies, Reiki focal points, and somatic journal prompts.
For artists, performers, and creative seekers — a theatrical creative lens drawing on Viola Spolin's improvisational theater work, drama therapy, and the liberating philosophy of genuine childlike play. With twelve original stage prompts, a Creative Declaration worksheet, and guidance on morning pages and artist dates specific to this transit's energy.
The workbook also includes a full astrology primer for those newer to the language, a personal chart locator, a complete sign-by-sign breakdown of where Jupiter in Leo is expanding your life, a detailed transit timeline, and notes on the Jupiter retrograde (December 2026 – April 2027) and how to work with it.
Art by @carolinwood
Only 9.00 - instant download.
Link in bio

Once every twelve years, Jupiter moves through Leo — and when it does, the sky makes an unmistakable offer: more. More creative courage. More radiance. More willingness to be seen, to play, to inhabit the full warmth of your own life rather than watching it from the wings.
Jupiter entered Leo on June 29, 2026, and it will stay through July 2027. That's thirteen months of the most generously expansive, theatrically alive, heart-forward energy available in the astrological year. It is also, for many of us, thirteen months of confronting exactly why we have been playing small.
The Stage Awaits was written for that confrontation — and for the gorgeous opportunity on the other side of it.
This richly designed, beautifully formatted workbook offers three complete frameworks for working with Jupiter in Leo:
For therapists and those doing inner work — a CBT-informed section on the visibility wound, the inner critic as audience, and the worthiness blocks that this transit reliably surfaces. With three original worksheets including The Visibility Inventory, Meeting the Inner Critic, and The Worthiness Audit.
For healers and somatic practitioners — a full chakra mapping of Jupiter in Leo's energy through the body, with specific embodiment practices for opening the heart and spine, voice and sound work, play-in-the-body practices, crystal allies, Reiki focal points, and somatic journal prompts.
For artists, performers, and creative seekers — a theatrical creative lens drawing on Viola Spolin's improvisational theater work, drama therapy, and the liberating philosophy of genuine childlike play. With twelve original stage prompts, a Creative Declaration worksheet, and guidance on morning pages and artist dates specific to this transit's energy.
The workbook also includes a full astrology primer for those newer to the language, a personal chart locator, a complete sign-by-sign breakdown of where Jupiter in Leo is expanding your life, a detailed transit timeline, and notes on the Jupiter retrograde (December 2026 – April 2027) and how to work with it.
Art by @carolinwood
Only 9.00 - instant download.
Link in bio

The wheel reaches its summit this week and begins its long lean back toward the dark. Because the Cancer ingress is a hinge of the year, I'm reading the season — and it opens under a Sun–Neptune square (Jun 25): structure dissolving into dream. Then two doorways return us to the personal: Venus trine Saturn in fire (Jun 25) — love with a spine, beauty with bones — and Mars sextile Jupiter at the threshold (Jun 28) before Mars quickens into Gemini. Integrate. Listen. Then move.
#weeklyastrology #astrologersofinstagram #astrology #weekaheadastrology

The wheel reaches its summit this week and begins its long lean back toward the dark. Because the Cancer ingress is a hinge of the year, I'm reading the season — and it opens under a Sun–Neptune square (Jun 25): structure dissolving into dream. Then two doorways return us to the personal: Venus trine Saturn in fire (Jun 25) — love with a spine, beauty with bones — and Mars sextile Jupiter at the threshold (Jun 28) before Mars quickens into Gemini. Integrate. Listen. Then move.
#weeklyastrology #astrologersofinstagram #astrology #weekaheadastrology

Twenty Jupiter-in-Leo passages handed the Lion a stage. This one hands it a stage and cuts the lights — because the South Node and a total solar eclipse fall in Leo itself, and Pluto in Aquarius opposes the whole arc. The work of 2026 isn't being seen. It's discovering what's left of the radiant self when no one is watching. Keep the flame. Retire the act.
Please comment STAGE if you want more content! Thank you it really helps me and my work be visible!
#jupiterinleo #leo #cultofvisibility #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Twenty Jupiter-in-Leo passages handed the Lion a stage. This one hands it a stage and cuts the lights — because the South Node and a total solar eclipse fall in Leo itself, and Pluto in Aquarius opposes the whole arc. The work of 2026 isn't being seen. It's discovering what's left of the radiant self when no one is watching. Keep the flame. Retire the act.
Please comment STAGE if you want more content! Thank you it really helps me and my work be visible!
#jupiterinleo #leo #cultofvisibility #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

Lift Jupiter out of the July sky and the configuration doesn't disappear — it resolves into a triangle. Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, with Neptune in early Aries at the midpoint, sextile to both: one trine and two sextiles, the figure the tradition calls a minor grand trine and the school of Bruno and Louise Huber called a talent triangle.
What makes it is the point. Not the fast personal planets that pass in days, but Uranus, Neptune and Pluto — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, whose angles hold for years, not hours. Uranus circles the Sun in 84 years, Neptune in 165, Pluto in nearly 248. The figure came within orb in 2022, drew nearly exact in 2025 with all three legs within a degree or two of the start of their signs, perfects again near 4 degrees this July, and a third time near 6 to 7 degrees in June 2027. Between those passes it never leaves orb.
A talent, in the older sense, is a gift you're handed and asked to grow — not a verdict, not a guarantee, but a capacity. But the triangle on its own is only the floor: the foundation, the bottom of something larger. It isn't the vessel yet; it's what the vessel is built on. The vessel is these three at play — the moment the faster planets move across the foundation and it becomes a container that can hold a season, a crisis, a chance. The basket is loud and brief; the triangle beneath is quiet and long, the part that holds — and what we live inside all year is what gets built on top of it.
Part two of the series. Talent-triangle framing after Bruno and Louise Huber; long-cycle forecast after André Barbault.
#barbaultbasket #astrologersofinstagram #talenttriangle #thevessel #astrology

Lift Jupiter out of the July sky and the configuration doesn't disappear — it resolves into a triangle. Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, with Neptune in early Aries at the midpoint, sextile to both: one trine and two sextiles, the figure the tradition calls a minor grand trine and the school of Bruno and Louise Huber called a talent triangle.
What makes it is the point. Not the fast personal planets that pass in days, but Uranus, Neptune and Pluto — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, whose angles hold for years, not hours. Uranus circles the Sun in 84 years, Neptune in 165, Pluto in nearly 248. The figure came within orb in 2022, drew nearly exact in 2025 with all three legs within a degree or two of the start of their signs, perfects again near 4 degrees this July, and a third time near 6 to 7 degrees in June 2027. Between those passes it never leaves orb.
A talent, in the older sense, is a gift you're handed and asked to grow — not a verdict, not a guarantee, but a capacity. But the triangle on its own is only the floor: the foundation, the bottom of something larger. It isn't the vessel yet; it's what the vessel is built on. The vessel is these three at play — the moment the faster planets move across the foundation and it becomes a container that can hold a season, a crisis, a chance. The basket is loud and brief; the triangle beneath is quiet and long, the part that holds — and what we live inside all year is what gets built on top of it.
Part two of the series. Talent-triangle framing after Bruno and Louise Huber; long-cycle forecast after André Barbault.
#barbaultbasket #astrologersofinstagram #talenttriangle #thevessel #astrology

I got to speak with the absolutely incredible Gray Crawford a chironian influence in my life and one of my great teachers in my astrological lineage. We spoke about Chiron in Taurus, weaving mythology, personal experience, world signification and the reverence of nature

I got to speak with the absolutely incredible Gray Crawford a chironian influence in my life and one of my great teachers in my astrological lineage. We spoke about Chiron in Taurus, weaving mythology, personal experience, world signification and the reverence of nature

Jupiter returns to Leo on June 30th- the only sign the sun rules. The Great Benefic in the house of the Sun doesn't simply expand creativity. It enlarges the question of the crown : who is elevated, who is released. Two centuries of these returns answer it from both poles in the same breath- a star made, a throne emptied. This is part 1 of a 7 part series on what the Lion is really carrying into 2026-27. Save it , the dates are coming. Comment Lionheart if you want more!

Jupiter returns to Leo on June 30th- the only sign the sun rules. The Great Benefic in the house of the Sun doesn't simply expand creativity. It enlarges the question of the crown : who is elevated, who is released. Two centuries of these returns answer it from both poles in the same breath- a star made, a throne emptied. This is part 1 of a 7 part series on what the Lion is really carrying into 2026-27. Save it , the dates are coming. Comment Lionheart if you want more!

The configuration everyone's calling the basket this summer — Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius — is real, and it's lovely. But it's the lid, not the structure underneath it.
A basket forms when a cluster of planets is bounded by a single opposition thrown across the open side: one planet alone, opposite the group, a handle over a bowl. In July that handle is Jupiter, reaching to Pluto. For about three weeks, the picture closes.
Take Jupiter away and the real figure remains: Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in early Aries sextile to both — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, a standing structure that needs no handle to exist. It came within orb in 2022, drew to near 1° of the signs in 2025 as Saturn met Neptune at the threshold of Aries, perfects again near 4° this July, and a third time in 2027 — never leaving orb in between. It holds into the 2030s.
This is the figure André Barbault charted as the recovery out of the 2020s and called the most benefic configuration of the century. The basket is only the moment it becomes visible enough to point at.
This is part one of a series walking through the whole thing — not the three weeks, the three years. It's the configuration many of you first found me through, mapped all the way out. The reading of the basket as a planetary picture belongs to SJ Anderson, whose work named the silhouette; what follows is my attempt to map the structure beneath it.
Where is this one landing for you? 🏺
I have an entire substack piece on this! Please check it out link in bio
#barbaultbasket #thevessel #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

The configuration everyone's calling the basket this summer — Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius — is real, and it's lovely. But it's the lid, not the structure underneath it.
A basket forms when a cluster of planets is bounded by a single opposition thrown across the open side: one planet alone, opposite the group, a handle over a bowl. In July that handle is Jupiter, reaching to Pluto. For about three weeks, the picture closes.
Take Jupiter away and the real figure remains: Uranus in Gemini trine Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in early Aries sextile to both — three of the slowest bodies in the sky, a standing structure that needs no handle to exist. It came within orb in 2022, drew to near 1° of the signs in 2025 as Saturn met Neptune at the threshold of Aries, perfects again near 4° this July, and a third time in 2027 — never leaving orb in between. It holds into the 2030s.
This is the figure André Barbault charted as the recovery out of the 2020s and called the most benefic configuration of the century. The basket is only the moment it becomes visible enough to point at.
This is part one of a series walking through the whole thing — not the three weeks, the three years. It's the configuration many of you first found me through, mapped all the way out. The reading of the basket as a planetary picture belongs to SJ Anderson, whose work named the silhouette; what follows is my attempt to map the structure beneath it.
Where is this one landing for you? 🏺
I have an entire substack piece on this! Please check it out link in bio
#barbaultbasket #thevessel #astrologersofinstagram #astrology

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — and June 19th is Juneteenth. On that date in 1865, two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation, General Gordon Granger reached Galveston and issued General Order No. 3, freeing the last ~250,000 enslaved people in Texas. Freedom delayed. The order even promised "an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property" — and that material promise was never kept; the forty acres never came. Taurus is the sign of land, property, labor, the body, worth — what we have and what we are owed. So Chiron, the wounded healer, crossing into Taurus on this exact date lands on the unfinished business of that day: the wound in the material world, still open. Martin Luther King was born with Chiron in Taurus alongside Jupiter, and his work bent, by the end, toward economic justice — the Poor People's Campaign, the Memphis sanitation workers and their fight for a living wage. He died working on the Taurus wound. Chiron returning to that sign is a kind of homecoming to the work left unfinished. Chiron brings the wound to the surface and does not heal it for us; it asks us to look — to witness what freedom was promised, and what is still owed. I found this connection myself, watching the chart cross into Taurus on this date — and I'll take that. But the meaning of this day was never mine to give; it belongs to the people who carry its history, and that history is best heard from Black historians and Black voices. I'm just showing you where the sky put it.
(This was researched and looked into thanks to multiple followers comments and insights regarding this ingress occurring on Juneteenth.)
#juneteenth #mlk #chironintaurus #chiron #astrology

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — and June 19th is Juneteenth. On that date in 1865, two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation, General Gordon Granger reached Galveston and issued General Order No. 3, freeing the last ~250,000 enslaved people in Texas. Freedom delayed. The order even promised "an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property" — and that material promise was never kept; the forty acres never came. Taurus is the sign of land, property, labor, the body, worth — what we have and what we are owed. So Chiron, the wounded healer, crossing into Taurus on this exact date lands on the unfinished business of that day: the wound in the material world, still open. Martin Luther King was born with Chiron in Taurus alongside Jupiter, and his work bent, by the end, toward economic justice — the Poor People's Campaign, the Memphis sanitation workers and their fight for a living wage. He died working on the Taurus wound. Chiron returning to that sign is a kind of homecoming to the work left unfinished. Chiron brings the wound to the surface and does not heal it for us; it asks us to look — to witness what freedom was promised, and what is still owed. I found this connection myself, watching the chart cross into Taurus on this date — and I'll take that. But the meaning of this day was never mine to give; it belongs to the people who carry its history, and that history is best heard from Black historians and Black voices. I'm just showing you where the sky put it.
(This was researched and looked into thanks to multiple followers comments and insights regarding this ingress occurring on Juneteenth.)
#juneteenth #mlk #chironintaurus #chiron #astrology

Everyone's about to tell you the basket is a three-week event. Jupiter opposite Pluto, July 20, lovely, gone by August. 🏺
They're describing the doorway and calling it the house.
What's actually overhead is built from three of the slowest planets in the sky — Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in Aries, Uranus in Gemini — and it doesn't arrive in July and vanish in August. It holds for years. The basket is just the one face of it you can see this summer.
So I wrote the whole thing down: what the configuration actually is, why André Barbault called it the most benefic of the century, how it gets struck into life again and again across 2026 and 2027 — and why I've stopped calling it a basket and started calling it the vessel.
The basket is a few weeks in July. The vessel is the year.
Full essay on The World Point — link in bio.

Everyone's about to tell you the basket is a three-week event. Jupiter opposite Pluto, July 20, lovely, gone by August. 🏺
They're describing the doorway and calling it the house.
What's actually overhead is built from three of the slowest planets in the sky — Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in Aries, Uranus in Gemini — and it doesn't arrive in July and vanish in August. It holds for years. The basket is just the one face of it you can see this summer.
So I wrote the whole thing down: what the configuration actually is, why André Barbault called it the most benefic of the century, how it gets struck into life again and again across 2026 and 2027 — and why I've stopped calling it a basket and started calling it the vessel.
The basket is a few weeks in July. The vessel is the year.
Full essay on The World Point — link in bio.

The oldest way to find the father in a chart was never just one placement. Ptolemy, in the Tetrabiblos, gives him the Sun and Saturn (the mother gets the Moon and Venus). Dorotheus and Valens refined it by sect — the Sun for the father in a day chart, Saturn in a night chart — but both told us not to get rigid about it. Sometimes Saturn is the truer father even in daylight. You read the chart in front of you, not the rule.
Dorotheus went further. Take that significator, find its three triplicity rulers, and you get the father in three acts: early life, middle years, end. How those three rulers are doing tells you whether his fortunes climbed or fell across his life.
Then the houses. The fourth — the IC, the bottom of the chart, the root — is the parental ground, and a lot of the older tradition (Lilly included) gives it to the father outright. Not everyone agrees; some lineages and most modern psychological astrology hand him to the tenth and to Saturn instead. Find the sign on the cusp, its ruler, and follow that planet for the whole story.
There's also a Lot of the Father: by day, the arc from the Sun to Saturn thrown from the Ascendant; reversed by night; with a switch to Mars-to-Jupiter when Saturn is burned under the Sun's beams (Paulus Alexandrinus, Dorotheus). The medieval world called that same point the Lot of Power, the Lot of Kingdom.
Turn the chart and the line keeps going — the father's father is the fourth from the fourth, your radical seventh. The moderns kept the Sun and added the Sun/Saturn midpoint (Witte's Hamburg School, Ebertin's cosmobiology), the axis where the father shows up as solidity, and sometimes as distance. And the traditions don't even agree on his house: the West buries him in the foundation, while Jyotish (per Komilla Sutton) puts him up in the ninth, the house of dharma and fortune.
He's in there either way. Happy Father's Day.

#fatherday #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #dad

The oldest way to find the father in a chart was never just one placement. Ptolemy, in the Tetrabiblos, gives him the Sun and Saturn (the mother gets the Moon and Venus). Dorotheus and Valens refined it by sect — the Sun for the father in a day chart, Saturn in a night chart — but both told us not to get rigid about it. Sometimes Saturn is the truer father even in daylight. You read the chart in front of you, not the rule.
Dorotheus went further. Take that significator, find its three triplicity rulers, and you get the father in three acts: early life, middle years, end. How those three rulers are doing tells you whether his fortunes climbed or fell across his life.
Then the houses. The fourth — the IC, the bottom of the chart, the root — is the parental ground, and a lot of the older tradition (Lilly included) gives it to the father outright. Not everyone agrees; some lineages and most modern psychological astrology hand him to the tenth and to Saturn instead. Find the sign on the cusp, its ruler, and follow that planet for the whole story.
There's also a Lot of the Father: by day, the arc from the Sun to Saturn thrown from the Ascendant; reversed by night; with a switch to Mars-to-Jupiter when Saturn is burned under the Sun's beams (Paulus Alexandrinus, Dorotheus). The medieval world called that same point the Lot of Power, the Lot of Kingdom.
Turn the chart and the line keeps going — the father's father is the fourth from the fourth, your radical seventh. The moderns kept the Sun and added the Sun/Saturn midpoint (Witte's Hamburg School, Ebertin's cosmobiology), the axis where the father shows up as solidity, and sometimes as distance. And the traditions don't even agree on his house: the West buries him in the foundation, while Jyotish (per Komilla Sutton) puts him up in the ninth, the house of dharma and fortune.
He's in there either way. Happy Father's Day.

#fatherday #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #dad

It's party time!
How are you celebrating the longest day of the year?
Sun worshipping?
How are you opening up your table to others?
How will you bring joy?
How will you find illumination?

Comment below✨☀️⭐🌞🌙🦀🌊🐟
Happy SOLSTICE bbs

It's party time!
How are you celebrating the longest day of the year?
Sun worshipping?
How are you opening up your table to others?
How will you bring joy?
How will you find illumination?

Comment below✨☀️⭐🌞🌙🦀🌊🐟
Happy SOLSTICE bbs

What has healed within you?
Anaretic degree
Last degree contemplation and community

#chironintaurus #chiron #astrologersofinstagram #chironinaries

What has healed within you?
Anaretic degree
Last degree contemplation and community

#chironintaurus #chiron #astrologersofinstagram #chironinaries

Venus is at 5° Leo right now, pulled two ways at once: a fire trine reaching toward Neptune and Saturn in Aries, and an opposition to Pluto sitting directly across the sky in Aquarius. Not one aspect — a crossroads.
In the Quabbalistic tarot, Venus is the Empress, and her path is Dalet: the door. On the Tree of Life she's the line drawn between Chokmah and Binah — the supernal Father who is raw force, the supernal Mother who is form — and she's the current that turns one into the other. Look where she actually sits this week: Neptune is the raw, unformed dream; Saturn is the structure that makes it real; Venus passes right between them. The Empress standing in her own doorway, force becoming form.
Turn her toward Neptune and you get the card upright — the Author of Voluptuousness at full volume. Aphrodite born from the foam (and the foam is Neptune), the harvest, abundance, even the Venus of Willendorf, whose softness is storage: fat is surplus held against scarcity. The upright card is the start of a creative project and the will to finish it — Neptune begins, Saturn completes, by the 25th.
Turn her toward Pluto and you get the card reversed — comfort curdled into control, the holding-on that calls itself love. Pluto is conjunct Dabih (4°Aqu25), a Saturn–Venus star: the comfort we're most afraid to lose. The Queen of Pentacles reversed, written in starlight. And the Moon is in Leo too, a step ahead — the two feminine lights the old chart had, crossing the same threshold.
One configuration, two faces of one card. The sky holds the potential. The turn is yours.
Which planet are you walking toward today?
#venus #neptune #pluto #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Venus is at 5° Leo right now, pulled two ways at once: a fire trine reaching toward Neptune and Saturn in Aries, and an opposition to Pluto sitting directly across the sky in Aquarius. Not one aspect — a crossroads.
In the Quabbalistic tarot, Venus is the Empress, and her path is Dalet: the door. On the Tree of Life she's the line drawn between Chokmah and Binah — the supernal Father who is raw force, the supernal Mother who is form — and she's the current that turns one into the other. Look where she actually sits this week: Neptune is the raw, unformed dream; Saturn is the structure that makes it real; Venus passes right between them. The Empress standing in her own doorway, force becoming form.
Turn her toward Neptune and you get the card upright — the Author of Voluptuousness at full volume. Aphrodite born from the foam (and the foam is Neptune), the harvest, abundance, even the Venus of Willendorf, whose softness is storage: fat is surplus held against scarcity. The upright card is the start of a creative project and the will to finish it — Neptune begins, Saturn completes, by the 25th.
Turn her toward Pluto and you get the card reversed — comfort curdled into control, the holding-on that calls itself love. Pluto is conjunct Dabih (4°Aqu25), a Saturn–Venus star: the comfort we're most afraid to lose. The Queen of Pentacles reversed, written in starlight. And the Moon is in Leo too, a step ahead — the two feminine lights the old chart had, crossing the same threshold.
One configuration, two faces of one card. The sky holds the potential. The turn is yours.
Which planet are you walking toward today?
#venus #neptune #pluto #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Chiron sits at the final minute of Aries tonight — 29°56′ — and on June 19 it crosses into Taurus, carrying the wound out of the realm of identity and down into the body.
It's worth remembering what Chiron actually is. Discovered in 1977, it was the first of the centaurs: a small world whose orbit dips just inside Saturn's at one end and reaches out toward Uranus at the other. The bridge between the boundary and the breakthrough — and in the myth, Saturn's own son. Kronos, so afraid of being surpassed by his children that he swallowed them, fathered Chiron in the form of a horse and walked away. Abandoned at birth, the boundary-keeper's son grew into the teacher of heroes — the one whose gift is helping others go further than they believed they could. Born immortal, he took a wound that could neither heal nor kill him. The healer who could mend everyone but himself.
The astronomy keeps the family resemblance. In 2015, astronomers reported evidence that Chiron may carry faint rings of its own — only the second of these little worlds ever found with them. A small echo of its father's crown.
Now the wound leaves Aries (who I am) for Taurus (the flesh, the worth, the ground it was born half-into). And the father is following: Saturn trails in Aries now, and in 2028 it too enters Taurus — meeting Chiron exactly on June 8, 2028, both pressed by Pluto in Aquarius. The one who set the limit and the one left at its edge, in the same degree at last.
Where does your Chiron sit?
#chironintaurus #chiron #babysaturn #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Chiron sits at the final minute of Aries tonight — 29°56′ — and on June 19 it crosses into Taurus, carrying the wound out of the realm of identity and down into the body.
It's worth remembering what Chiron actually is. Discovered in 1977, it was the first of the centaurs: a small world whose orbit dips just inside Saturn's at one end and reaches out toward Uranus at the other. The bridge between the boundary and the breakthrough — and in the myth, Saturn's own son. Kronos, so afraid of being surpassed by his children that he swallowed them, fathered Chiron in the form of a horse and walked away. Abandoned at birth, the boundary-keeper's son grew into the teacher of heroes — the one whose gift is helping others go further than they believed they could. Born immortal, he took a wound that could neither heal nor kill him. The healer who could mend everyone but himself.
The astronomy keeps the family resemblance. In 2015, astronomers reported evidence that Chiron may carry faint rings of its own — only the second of these little worlds ever found with them. A small echo of its father's crown.
Now the wound leaves Aries (who I am) for Taurus (the flesh, the worth, the ground it was born half-into). And the father is following: Saturn trails in Aries now, and in 2028 it too enters Taurus — meeting Chiron exactly on June 8, 2028, both pressed by Pluto in Aquarius. The one who set the limit and the one left at its edge, in the same degree at last.
Where does your Chiron sit?
#chironintaurus #chiron #babysaturn #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — the sign of the body, the land, and the food that comes from it. Taurus is not a quantity sign; it's a quality sign, and Chiron, the wounded healer, will surface the wounds in how we feed ourselves. The timing is uncanny. Since 2018, Uranus — the disruptor — moved through Taurus, upending food itself: lab-grown, engineered, synthetic, the dyes. This year Uranus shifted into Gemini, the sign of the mind and the nervous system — and right on cue we're in a national reckoning over petroleum-based food dyes (Red 3 already revoked, the rest being phased out through 2026), the very dyes research has linked to hyperactivity in some children. What entered the body under Uranus in Taurus is surfacing now in the mind. Meanwhile Chiron in Taurus squares Jupiter and the South Node in Leo — the sign of excess and the few who shine — pointing at the oldest wound of all: we produce more than enough food to feed everyone on earth, we waste roughly a third of it, and people still go hungry. That's not scarcity. It's a wound in how we share. Taurus feels through the senses, so it asks us to feel where our food actually comes from — the soil it was or wasn't grown in, the animal whose last moments may have been terror, as if its life never mattered. Chiron won't let us look away. And that's the point: Chiron brings the wound to the surface and then doesn't heal it for us. We have to look, get specific, get honest about what we put in the body and what it costs. The medicine of Taurus was never more. It was better — realer, grown with reverence, worthy of the body it's meant to keep alive.
#chironintaurus #fooddye #animalrights #worldhunger #taurus

On June 19th, 2026, Chiron enters Taurus — the sign of the body, the land, and the food that comes from it. Taurus is not a quantity sign; it's a quality sign, and Chiron, the wounded healer, will surface the wounds in how we feed ourselves. The timing is uncanny. Since 2018, Uranus — the disruptor — moved through Taurus, upending food itself: lab-grown, engineered, synthetic, the dyes. This year Uranus shifted into Gemini, the sign of the mind and the nervous system — and right on cue we're in a national reckoning over petroleum-based food dyes (Red 3 already revoked, the rest being phased out through 2026), the very dyes research has linked to hyperactivity in some children. What entered the body under Uranus in Taurus is surfacing now in the mind. Meanwhile Chiron in Taurus squares Jupiter and the South Node in Leo — the sign of excess and the few who shine — pointing at the oldest wound of all: we produce more than enough food to feed everyone on earth, we waste roughly a third of it, and people still go hungry. That's not scarcity. It's a wound in how we share. Taurus feels through the senses, so it asks us to feel where our food actually comes from — the soil it was or wasn't grown in, the animal whose last moments may have been terror, as if its life never mattered. Chiron won't let us look away. And that's the point: Chiron brings the wound to the surface and then doesn't heal it for us. We have to look, get specific, get honest about what we put in the body and what it costs. The medicine of Taurus was never more. It was better — realer, grown with reverence, worthy of the body it's meant to keep alive.
#chironintaurus #fooddye #animalrights #worldhunger #taurus

Venus crossed into Leo and immediately reached back across the whole sky. This week she sits at the handle of the vessel — the great mixing bowl the outer planets have been forming — and from there she touches every corner of it: a sextile to Uranus in Gemini on the 15th, a trine to Neptune in Aries exact on the 17th (both at 4°), and an opposition to Pluto in Aquarius the same day. One planet, the whole configuration lit up at once.
The trine to Neptune is the luscious one. Venus and Neptune are the most dissolving pair in the sky — beauty that won't stay outside of you. The film you fall into, the painting you forget your body in front of, the meal, the aged wine, the music that lands somewhere under language. That moment where you can't find the seam between the beautiful thing and yourself. Fire to fire, Leo to Aries, flowing without friction.
She's the evening star right now, climbing toward greatest elongation — the first light after sunset. And there's an old rhyme to all of it: Aphrodite was born from the sea, rose from the foam already beautiful. A trine to Neptune is Venus going home to the water she came from. The Greeks mixed wine and water in a krater — a vessel — and gathered around it to talk about love itself. Plato set his Symposium there. Botticelli painted her arriving on the shell.
It's not the week for spreadsheets or tidy answers. It's the week to pour in the idealism, the longing, the sweetness — and to let yourself escape into something beautiful for a little while.
For those who love the Venus star cycle and her turns as evening and morning star, Demetra George's work on the synodic Venus is a gorgeous place to go deeper.
Where did beauty dissolve you this week? Tell me below. 🌊
Link in bio if you'd like to work together.

Venus crossed into Leo and immediately reached back across the whole sky. This week she sits at the handle of the vessel — the great mixing bowl the outer planets have been forming — and from there she touches every corner of it: a sextile to Uranus in Gemini on the 15th, a trine to Neptune in Aries exact on the 17th (both at 4°), and an opposition to Pluto in Aquarius the same day. One planet, the whole configuration lit up at once.
The trine to Neptune is the luscious one. Venus and Neptune are the most dissolving pair in the sky — beauty that won't stay outside of you. The film you fall into, the painting you forget your body in front of, the meal, the aged wine, the music that lands somewhere under language. That moment where you can't find the seam between the beautiful thing and yourself. Fire to fire, Leo to Aries, flowing without friction.
She's the evening star right now, climbing toward greatest elongation — the first light after sunset. And there's an old rhyme to all of it: Aphrodite was born from the sea, rose from the foam already beautiful. A trine to Neptune is Venus going home to the water she came from. The Greeks mixed wine and water in a krater — a vessel — and gathered around it to talk about love itself. Plato set his Symposium there. Botticelli painted her arriving on the shell.
It's not the week for spreadsheets or tidy answers. It's the week to pour in the idealism, the longing, the sweetness — and to let yourself escape into something beautiful for a little while.
For those who love the Venus star cycle and her turns as evening and morning star, Demetra George's work on the synodic Venus is a gorgeous place to go deeper.
Where did beauty dissolve you this week? Tell me below. 🌊
Link in bio if you'd like to work together.

This is a week that begins in the dark and ends in fire.
The New Moon in Gemini has just passed (24°03′, June 14). The Moon empties herself in the last of the twins, then crosses home into Cancer — her own domicile — and begins to fill. Mercury, who rules that lunation, reaches his greatest eastern elongation as evening star on June 15: the furthest he travels from the Sun all season, the highest perch he'll climb.
And then Venus, freshly crowned in Leo (June 13), walks the length of the sky — sextile Uranus in Gemini (June 15), a lush trine to Neptune in Aries (June 16–17), then face to face with Pluto in Aquarius (June 17). Midweek the Moon catches her: on June 17 the Moon enters Leo, conjoins Venus at 05° Leo, and the two oppose Pluto together. Venus opposite Pluto holds the obsessive, difficult side of love — but it's also the gemstone at the bottom of the cave, the one that needed dark and pressure to form. Beauty willing to go all the way down. Beauty willing to push what we're allowed to call beautiful at all.
Just past the weekend she finishes the walk — a trine to Saturn (June 25), the other half of the Aries pair. Neptune is the dream; Saturn is the dream that stops dreaming and starts making. Venus lays her gold on both.
Each of those bodies — Uranus, Neptune, Saturn, Pluto — is a corner of the outer-planet configuration I keep calling the vessel (a framing extended from André Barbault's work on the cycle). It earns the name because it's still being made: its walls are slow planets that only just changed signs, the clay still soft. When Mars touches it, it reads as a crucible. When Venus in Leo touches it, she works it like a potter — pressing in a handle, laying on the glaze — until it becomes an urn, the decorated kratēr set at the center of the room.
The Moon closes the week in Virgo (June 19), where the gold settles into something usable. A week that starts empty and ends gold. Watch what you make beautiful.
#venus #venusinleo #thevessel #leo #astrology

This is a week that begins in the dark and ends in fire.
The New Moon in Gemini has just passed (24°03′, June 14). The Moon empties herself in the last of the twins, then crosses home into Cancer — her own domicile — and begins to fill. Mercury, who rules that lunation, reaches his greatest eastern elongation as evening star on June 15: the furthest he travels from the Sun all season, the highest perch he'll climb.
And then Venus, freshly crowned in Leo (June 13), walks the length of the sky — sextile Uranus in Gemini (June 15), a lush trine to Neptune in Aries (June 16–17), then face to face with Pluto in Aquarius (June 17). Midweek the Moon catches her: on June 17 the Moon enters Leo, conjoins Venus at 05° Leo, and the two oppose Pluto together. Venus opposite Pluto holds the obsessive, difficult side of love — but it's also the gemstone at the bottom of the cave, the one that needed dark and pressure to form. Beauty willing to go all the way down. Beauty willing to push what we're allowed to call beautiful at all.
Just past the weekend she finishes the walk — a trine to Saturn (June 25), the other half of the Aries pair. Neptune is the dream; Saturn is the dream that stops dreaming and starts making. Venus lays her gold on both.
Each of those bodies — Uranus, Neptune, Saturn, Pluto — is a corner of the outer-planet configuration I keep calling the vessel (a framing extended from André Barbault's work on the cycle). It earns the name because it's still being made: its walls are slow planets that only just changed signs, the clay still soft. When Mars touches it, it reads as a crucible. When Venus in Leo touches it, she works it like a potter — pressing in a handle, laying on the glaze — until it becomes an urn, the decorated kratēr set at the center of the room.
The Moon closes the week in Virgo (June 19), where the gold settles into something usable. A week that starts empty and ends gold. Watch what you make beautiful.
#venus #venusinleo #thevessel #leo #astrology

On July 20, Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius — the one against the many across the wheel. One week later, on July 27, the lunar nodes lock onto that same axis: South Node into Leo, North Node into Aquarius. The opposition gets pinned to the spine of fate.
This week, with Jupiter at the threshold of Leo, Elon Musk became the first trillionaire in history — worth more than the next four richest people on Earth combined. That is Jupiter in Leo: the Midas touch. Remember how Midas ends — everything he touches turns to gold, until he can't eat.
But the South Node is the place of release — the tail of the dragon. What it touches, it loosens; it asks you to let go. Jupiter swells the solar self to its brightest right at that door. The higher the inflation, the steeper the descent. This is the shape of a fall from grace.
We have seen this sky before. The last time Pluto moved through Aquarius — roughly 1778–1798 — was the Age of Revolutions. In 1789, with Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius (the exact configuration of this July 20), the French Revolution broke open. The guillotine fell, the divine right of kings began to end, and out of that same Aquarius came three words: liberté, égalité, fraternité. Pluto only returned to Aquarius in 2024 — the first time in over two centuries.
At the far end sits Aquarius — furthest from the warmth of the Sun. Pluto is there: Ploutōn, "the rich one," god of the underworld and of wealth, because everything precious comes up from below. And the wealth isn't only gold anymore. It's the system we built that runs on its own — the machine learning to think. Pluto in Aquarius is power moving into the network, into AI — the thing none of us fully holds and all of us now live inside. Not just who has the money, but what the money has become.
But Jupiter has another face. It is the great benefic — generosity itself, the open hand that gives from abundance. The very placement that built the fortune could pour it back out. Maybe this time it does. Probably it won't. But the sky always leaves that door open.
So the question isn't only who has the most. It's: is this okay? What do we actually value — a

On July 20, Jupiter in Leo opposes Pluto in Aquarius — the one against the many across the wheel. One week later, on July 27, the lunar nodes lock onto that same axis: South Node into Leo, North Node into Aquarius. The opposition gets pinned to the spine of fate.
This week, with Jupiter at the threshold of Leo, Elon Musk became the first trillionaire in history — worth more than the next four richest people on Earth combined. That is Jupiter in Leo: the Midas touch. Remember how Midas ends — everything he touches turns to gold, until he can't eat.
But the South Node is the place of release — the tail of the dragon. What it touches, it loosens; it asks you to let go. Jupiter swells the solar self to its brightest right at that door. The higher the inflation, the steeper the descent. This is the shape of a fall from grace.
We have seen this sky before. The last time Pluto moved through Aquarius — roughly 1778–1798 — was the Age of Revolutions. In 1789, with Jupiter in Leo opposite Pluto in Aquarius (the exact configuration of this July 20), the French Revolution broke open. The guillotine fell, the divine right of kings began to end, and out of that same Aquarius came three words: liberté, égalité, fraternité. Pluto only returned to Aquarius in 2024 — the first time in over two centuries.
At the far end sits Aquarius — furthest from the warmth of the Sun. Pluto is there: Ploutōn, "the rich one," god of the underworld and of wealth, because everything precious comes up from below. And the wealth isn't only gold anymore. It's the system we built that runs on its own — the machine learning to think. Pluto in Aquarius is power moving into the network, into AI — the thing none of us fully holds and all of us now live inside. Not just who has the money, but what the money has become.
But Jupiter has another face. It is the great benefic — generosity itself, the open hand that gives from abundance. The very placement that built the fortune could pour it back out. Maybe this time it does. Probably it won't. But the sky always leaves that door open.
So the question isn't only who has the most. It's: is this okay? What do we actually value — a

One degree, four traditions, one image. The new moon falls at 24°03′ Gemini, and every layer of that single degree points the same way.
The decan: the last third of Gemini belongs to the Sun, by the old Chaldean order — so this Sun–Moon conjunction lands in the Sun's own face. And the old decan image for these ten degrees, handed down in the magicians' tables, is a man in armor with a bow and quiver — an archer, a hunter. It's Orion, the very figure the new moon is sitting on; in these days the Sun rides just above his head, wearing him like a crown, right before the Solstice tips it off his shoulders.
The tarot built on these decans names this same slice the Ten of Swords — "Ruin," in the Golden Dawn and Crowley's Thoth. It reads grim, but in context it's the end of a cycle of thought: the overactive mind run as far as it can go, the darkest hour that's also the hour before dawn.
The bound: the final degrees of Gemini are Saturn's, by the Egyptian terms — the planet of limits and time. And the Sabian symbol for the degree, from Marc Edmund Jones and Dane Rudhyar: a gardener trimming large palm trees. Rudhyar reads it almost too perfectly — the intellect is a tropical plant, wild to grow in every direction; the gardener doesn't stop the growth, he shapes it, prunes it, so the tree can hold its own weight.
The Sun's face. An armored archer. The Ten of Swords. Saturn's bound. A gardener with the shears. Hellenistic, Egyptian, Renaissance magic, and twentieth-century vision — none of them in conversation, all saying the same gentle, ruthless thing: the wild mind has reached its edge; cut it back, shape it, let the overgrowth fall so something can stand. Which is exactly what a new moon is for — the dark before the green — especially with Mercury about to turn retrograde this month.
🌱 What needs pruning before it's ready?
#newmoon #gemini #decan #rudhyar #astrology

One degree, four traditions, one image. The new moon falls at 24°03′ Gemini, and every layer of that single degree points the same way.
The decan: the last third of Gemini belongs to the Sun, by the old Chaldean order — so this Sun–Moon conjunction lands in the Sun's own face. And the old decan image for these ten degrees, handed down in the magicians' tables, is a man in armor with a bow and quiver — an archer, a hunter. It's Orion, the very figure the new moon is sitting on; in these days the Sun rides just above his head, wearing him like a crown, right before the Solstice tips it off his shoulders.
The tarot built on these decans names this same slice the Ten of Swords — "Ruin," in the Golden Dawn and Crowley's Thoth. It reads grim, but in context it's the end of a cycle of thought: the overactive mind run as far as it can go, the darkest hour that's also the hour before dawn.
The bound: the final degrees of Gemini are Saturn's, by the Egyptian terms — the planet of limits and time. And the Sabian symbol for the degree, from Marc Edmund Jones and Dane Rudhyar: a gardener trimming large palm trees. Rudhyar reads it almost too perfectly — the intellect is a tropical plant, wild to grow in every direction; the gardener doesn't stop the growth, he shapes it, prunes it, so the tree can hold its own weight.
The Sun's face. An armored archer. The Ten of Swords. Saturn's bound. A gardener with the shears. Hellenistic, Egyptian, Renaissance magic, and twentieth-century vision — none of them in conversation, all saying the same gentle, ruthless thing: the wild mind has reached its edge; cut it back, shape it, let the overgrowth fall so something can stand. Which is exactly what a new moon is for — the dark before the green — especially with Mercury about to turn retrograde this month.
🌱 What needs pruning before it's ready?
#newmoon #gemini #decan #rudhyar #astrology

Sunday's new moon at 24°03′ Gemini doesn't fall on empty sky. It lands on the body of Orion — the Hunter, the Giant, the most recognizable figure in the night sky — almost exactly conjunct Meissa, the star of his head, and beside Alnilam, the bright center of the three belt stars: Mintaka, Alnilam, Alnitak. The belt the whole world named — the Three Kings, the Three Sisters, Jacob's Staff — the row sailors steered by and farmers planted by for thousands of years. In Egyptian sky-lore this was Sah, walking beside Osiris, god of death and return — the grain buried in the dark to rise again. A new-moon idea exactly: something goes under before it grows.
Ptolemy gave Orion's bright shoulders the nature of Mars and Mercury — strength wedded to mind, the warrior and the messenger in one body; Vivian Robson and Bernadette Brady carry the reading forward. So this is no soft, dreamy Gemini chatter — it's a mind that can forge, words that build. Though the poets also called him stormy Orion: raw power, weather with no aim. A hunter's whole art is choosing where to point it.
And there's a far side to all this. Directly opposite the new moon — across the entire sky — sits Black Moon Lilith, in Sagittarius: not a planet, but the far point of the Moon's own orbit. In the old story she's the first woman, who refused to be tamed and left the garden rather than be made small — the unbargained-with, the unashamed. The Archer's sign holds her now, the wild truth-teller. So the whole sky becomes one axis: the Hunter aiming the clever, well-made word; the wild one across from him, who cares only for true. As you plant the careful seed this week, the question comes from the far side of the sky — is it honest, or just nicely said?
A note on precision: a real opposition, but not partile. Mean Lilith sits at 19°45′ Sagittarius (≈4.3° off exact), True Lilith at 21°32′ (≈2.5° off). Close enough to feel across the Gemini–Sagittarius axis. Use whichever you work with.
✨ Aim — and mean it. The wild one already knows if you do.
#orion #blackmoonlillith #astrology #newmoon #gemini

Sunday's new moon at 24°03′ Gemini doesn't fall on empty sky. It lands on the body of Orion — the Hunter, the Giant, the most recognizable figure in the night sky — almost exactly conjunct Meissa, the star of his head, and beside Alnilam, the bright center of the three belt stars: Mintaka, Alnilam, Alnitak. The belt the whole world named — the Three Kings, the Three Sisters, Jacob's Staff — the row sailors steered by and farmers planted by for thousands of years. In Egyptian sky-lore this was Sah, walking beside Osiris, god of death and return — the grain buried in the dark to rise again. A new-moon idea exactly: something goes under before it grows.
Ptolemy gave Orion's bright shoulders the nature of Mars and Mercury — strength wedded to mind, the warrior and the messenger in one body; Vivian Robson and Bernadette Brady carry the reading forward. So this is no soft, dreamy Gemini chatter — it's a mind that can forge, words that build. Though the poets also called him stormy Orion: raw power, weather with no aim. A hunter's whole art is choosing where to point it.
And there's a far side to all this. Directly opposite the new moon — across the entire sky — sits Black Moon Lilith, in Sagittarius: not a planet, but the far point of the Moon's own orbit. In the old story she's the first woman, who refused to be tamed and left the garden rather than be made small — the unbargained-with, the unashamed. The Archer's sign holds her now, the wild truth-teller. So the whole sky becomes one axis: the Hunter aiming the clever, well-made word; the wild one across from him, who cares only for true. As you plant the careful seed this week, the question comes from the far side of the sky — is it honest, or just nicely said?
A note on precision: a real opposition, but not partile. Mean Lilith sits at 19°45′ Sagittarius (≈4.3° off exact), True Lilith at 21°32′ (≈2.5° off). Close enough to feel across the Gemini–Sagittarius axis. Use whichever you work with.
✨ Aim — and mean it. The wild one already knows if you do.
#orion #blackmoonlillith #astrology #newmoon #gemini

This Sunday night, June 14th, the Moon goes dark at 24°03′ Gemini — the new moon, the fertile, lightless turn the old astrologers read as pure potential. Plant here, the teaching goes, because it's built to grow.
What's unusual is how quiet it is. By the classical aspects it's nearly unaspected: Mercury and Jupiter in Cancer stand in aversion — turned away — and so does Mars in Taurus; the wide sextiles left from Saturn and Venus are too distant to close. The only planet sharing Gemini is Uranus, within half a degree of the bending of the nodes (2°52′ Gemini), the stress point of the nodal axis. A seed dropped into an open field, with the planet of the unexpected at the gate.
The ruler tells the rest: Mercury is back in Cancer — tender, nostalgic, memory-soaked — and stations retrograde June 29th at 26° Cancer, right on Jupiter's last degrees. We plant just before the messenger turns to walk back through his own words. Gemini gathers and synthesizes brilliantly, but it always asks one thing: is what you're planting actually rooted — real sources, a line you can trace?
So far, so quiet. But aspects aren't the only way to read a sky. On the 90° dial — the midpoint method of Alfred Witte's Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin's cosmobiology — this "empty" moon isn't empty at all. The Sun and Moon sit within half a degree of the Mars/Jupiter midpoint: among the most fortunate combinations there is — successful work, fruitful effort, new ventures, even birth. Underneath runs the Saturn/Node midpoint — patience and a little duty in whatever you begin — with a whisper of Mercury/Uranus, the sudden insight, the most Gemini note of all.
Quiet on the surface. Anything but, underneath. With thanks to Catherine Urban's Mars-Jupiter work, and to the Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin.
🌑 What are you planting in the dark?
#newmooningemini #newmoon #gemini #astrology #uranianastrology

This Sunday night, June 14th, the Moon goes dark at 24°03′ Gemini — the new moon, the fertile, lightless turn the old astrologers read as pure potential. Plant here, the teaching goes, because it's built to grow.
What's unusual is how quiet it is. By the classical aspects it's nearly unaspected: Mercury and Jupiter in Cancer stand in aversion — turned away — and so does Mars in Taurus; the wide sextiles left from Saturn and Venus are too distant to close. The only planet sharing Gemini is Uranus, within half a degree of the bending of the nodes (2°52′ Gemini), the stress point of the nodal axis. A seed dropped into an open field, with the planet of the unexpected at the gate.
The ruler tells the rest: Mercury is back in Cancer — tender, nostalgic, memory-soaked — and stations retrograde June 29th at 26° Cancer, right on Jupiter's last degrees. We plant just before the messenger turns to walk back through his own words. Gemini gathers and synthesizes brilliantly, but it always asks one thing: is what you're planting actually rooted — real sources, a line you can trace?
So far, so quiet. But aspects aren't the only way to read a sky. On the 90° dial — the midpoint method of Alfred Witte's Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin's cosmobiology — this "empty" moon isn't empty at all. The Sun and Moon sit within half a degree of the Mars/Jupiter midpoint: among the most fortunate combinations there is — successful work, fruitful effort, new ventures, even birth. Underneath runs the Saturn/Node midpoint — patience and a little duty in whatever you begin — with a whisper of Mercury/Uranus, the sudden insight, the most Gemini note of all.
Quiet on the surface. Anything but, underneath. With thanks to Catherine Urban's Mars-Jupiter work, and to the Hamburg School and Reinhold Ebertin.
🌑 What are you planting in the dark?
#newmooningemini #newmoon #gemini #astrology #uranianastrology

Please join me for this webinar that is the culmination of all my Scorpionic ♏ deep diving into the Barbault basket and what I am terming, the Vessel. We will look at Barbault prediction why he might have said what he says, break down the movements of the outer planets and explain why this is astrology that has never happened before. Incorporating Hellenistic, medieval/Renaissance, Arabic, Babylonian, modern and cosmobiology /Uranian perspectives - let's explore this vessel together. There will also be a few live on the spot charts read during the class so you can see how I weave the story of one's personal vessel in their chart.
Limited seats.
Sign up through linktree in bio
Or by visiting my website www.celestialhealingarts.org
Hope to see you there.

Please join me for this webinar that is the culmination of all my Scorpionic ♏ deep diving into the Barbault basket and what I am terming, the Vessel. We will look at Barbault prediction why he might have said what he says, break down the movements of the outer planets and explain why this is astrology that has never happened before. Incorporating Hellenistic, medieval/Renaissance, Arabic, Babylonian, modern and cosmobiology /Uranian perspectives - let's explore this vessel together. There will also be a few live on the spot charts read during the class so you can see how I weave the story of one's personal vessel in their chart.
Limited seats.
Sign up through linktree in bio
Or by visiting my website www.celestialhealingarts.org
Hope to see you there.

Right now Uranus stands at 2°43′ Gemini, exactly square the Moon's nodes at 2°43′ Pisces and Virgo — what the tradition calls the bending. The word reaches back through Ptolemy to the Greek kampsē: the same word used for the turning-post at the end of the racecourse, where the runner had to wheel hard and commit. Not a gentle curve. A pivot — a point where a direction has to be chosen, and will not wait.
The nodes are never read alone. They are the head and the tail of the dragon — the head reaching forward into the hunger for more, the tail the long letting go of what we were born already knowing. When a planet reaches the bending, it is held between the two and squared against the whole length of fate at once. It cannot stay where it stood. And the planet standing there now is Uranus — the one who never arrives the way we were watching for, who does nothing quietly, who asks for the answer now.
This is the northern bending, so the pull is forward: toward the country you have not visited, the self you have not yet been. In cosmobiology the nodes also carry our alliances and blood-ties, the people we are bound to — and Uranus here can be the stranger who turns out not to be a stranger, the meeting you did not plan.
Then on Sunday, a New Moon at 24° Gemini, the very sign Uranus is setting alight — a seed pressed into ground already being turned over.
Where do 0–6° of the mutable signs fall in your chart? That is where the dragon is asking you to turn.
Free Uranus in Gemini workbook at the link. ♅
Link in bio also to book (the best way to support my ongoing work and research at the moment )

Right now Uranus stands at 2°43′ Gemini, exactly square the Moon's nodes at 2°43′ Pisces and Virgo — what the tradition calls the bending. The word reaches back through Ptolemy to the Greek kampsē: the same word used for the turning-post at the end of the racecourse, where the runner had to wheel hard and commit. Not a gentle curve. A pivot — a point where a direction has to be chosen, and will not wait.
The nodes are never read alone. They are the head and the tail of the dragon — the head reaching forward into the hunger for more, the tail the long letting go of what we were born already knowing. When a planet reaches the bending, it is held between the two and squared against the whole length of fate at once. It cannot stay where it stood. And the planet standing there now is Uranus — the one who never arrives the way we were watching for, who does nothing quietly, who asks for the answer now.
This is the northern bending, so the pull is forward: toward the country you have not visited, the self you have not yet been. In cosmobiology the nodes also carry our alliances and blood-ties, the people we are bound to — and Uranus here can be the stranger who turns out not to be a stranger, the meeting you did not plan.
Then on Sunday, a New Moon at 24° Gemini, the very sign Uranus is setting alight — a seed pressed into ground already being turned over.
Where do 0–6° of the mutable signs fall in your chart? That is where the dragon is asking you to turn.
Free Uranus in Gemini workbook at the link. ♅
Link in bio also to book (the best way to support my ongoing work and research at the moment )

Catherine Urban and I sat down to talk about Leo ♌ 🦁. Jupiter ingress, eclipses going into Leo and Aquarius, Jupiter trine Saturn (and trine Neptune and sextile Uranus), and tht upcoming Mars retrograde.
Catherine is amazing at synthesizing and prediction. She is a creative and beautiful person and it was an honor to have her on!

Catherine Urban and I sat down to talk about Leo ♌ 🦁. Jupiter ingress, eclipses going into Leo and Aquarius, Jupiter trine Saturn (and trine Neptune and sextile Uranus), and tht upcoming Mars retrograde.
Catherine is amazing at synthesizing and prediction. She is a creative and beautiful person and it was an honor to have her on!

Step outside just after sunset and the brightest point in the western sky is Venus, the evening star, and right now she is climbing. Venus never strays more than about 47 degrees from the Sun; greatest elongation is the moment she reaches the end of that leash, the top of her arc, the highest and longest she lingers after dusk. She reaches it in mid-August, near 8 degrees of Libra. Through Leo this summer we catch her on the way up, a little higher and a little brighter each night.
The old Greeks watched this light and saw two beings. The one that followed the Sun down at dusk they called Hesperos, the evening star; the one that rose ahead of the Sun at dawn, Phosphoros, the bringer of light. For centuries they were two gods with two names, until it was understood as one wanderer, one Venus, setting in the west and returning in the east.
After she peaks, she falls. Venus stations retrograde in early October and drops back toward the Sun until, in late October at the first degree of Scorpio, she passes between us and the Sun and disappears, swallowed by the light. The oldest stories named this the descent: Inanna, Ishtar, the queen of heaven going down through the gates of the underworld, surrendering something at each gate until nothing is left to see. The sign she goes down through is Scorpio itself, the veil. She does not stay under. She rises again on the far side of the Sun, before dawn, reborn as the morning star.
So while she is still here in the evening, bright and climbing toward her height, it is worth asking what in your own life is near the top of its arc, and whether you would have the grace, when the time comes, to let it go down, trusting it returns as light.
Link in bio to book.
#venusretrograde #ianna #venus #astrology

Step outside just after sunset and the brightest point in the western sky is Venus, the evening star, and right now she is climbing. Venus never strays more than about 47 degrees from the Sun; greatest elongation is the moment she reaches the end of that leash, the top of her arc, the highest and longest she lingers after dusk. She reaches it in mid-August, near 8 degrees of Libra. Through Leo this summer we catch her on the way up, a little higher and a little brighter each night.
The old Greeks watched this light and saw two beings. The one that followed the Sun down at dusk they called Hesperos, the evening star; the one that rose ahead of the Sun at dawn, Phosphoros, the bringer of light. For centuries they were two gods with two names, until it was understood as one wanderer, one Venus, setting in the west and returning in the east.
After she peaks, she falls. Venus stations retrograde in early October and drops back toward the Sun until, in late October at the first degree of Scorpio, she passes between us and the Sun and disappears, swallowed by the light. The oldest stories named this the descent: Inanna, Ishtar, the queen of heaven going down through the gates of the underworld, surrendering something at each gate until nothing is left to see. The sign she goes down through is Scorpio itself, the veil. She does not stay under. She rises again on the far side of the Sun, before dawn, reborn as the morning star.
So while she is still here in the evening, bright and climbing toward her height, it is worth asking what in your own life is near the top of its arc, and whether you would have the grace, when the time comes, to let it go down, trusting it returns as light.
Link in bio to book.
#venusretrograde #ianna #venus #astrology

From June 13 to July 9, Venus moves through Leo, the Sun's own sign, and takes on its light. Picture the Sun's glyph: a circle with a single point burning at its center, the self at the heart of its own world, the still point the whole chart turns around. Venus carries her gifts to that center now — pleasure, beauty, comfort, love, taste and touch, balance and grace — and the center sets them ablaze.
This is the radiant Venus, the expressive one. In Leo she wants quality and she wants to be adored; magnetism runs high, standards rise, and luxury, romance and a little drama travel with her. Hers is the old marriage of love and art, of warmth and grace woven straight into the sense of self. Put that in Leo and you get beauty unafraid to be caught enjoying itself, childlike, lavish, alive for the joy of being alive.
The timing tells its own story. Venus slipped into Leo on June 13, ahead of Jupiter, who enters at the end of the month. She is the herald, the one who runs in first, and while she is there she brushes the same outer planets Jupiter will reach in July — Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and Saturn — lighting the wires before the great benefic arrives.
So Venus in Leo leans in and asks: what part of yourself have you kept dimmed? Where have you been the supporting role in your own life? Who is the version of you that takes up space without apology, the one you have learned to call too much? She stays only until July 9. While she does, let yourself be too much. That was always the point.
Link in bio to book.
#venus #venusinleo #leo #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

From June 13 to July 9, Venus moves through Leo, the Sun's own sign, and takes on its light. Picture the Sun's glyph: a circle with a single point burning at its center, the self at the heart of its own world, the still point the whole chart turns around. Venus carries her gifts to that center now — pleasure, beauty, comfort, love, taste and touch, balance and grace — and the center sets them ablaze.
This is the radiant Venus, the expressive one. In Leo she wants quality and she wants to be adored; magnetism runs high, standards rise, and luxury, romance and a little drama travel with her. Hers is the old marriage of love and art, of warmth and grace woven straight into the sense of self. Put that in Leo and you get beauty unafraid to be caught enjoying itself, childlike, lavish, alive for the joy of being alive.
The timing tells its own story. Venus slipped into Leo on June 13, ahead of Jupiter, who enters at the end of the month. She is the herald, the one who runs in first, and while she is there she brushes the same outer planets Jupiter will reach in July — Uranus, Neptune, Pluto and Saturn — lighting the wires before the great benefic arrives.
So Venus in Leo leans in and asks: what part of yourself have you kept dimmed? Where have you been the supporting role in your own life? Who is the version of you that takes up space without apology, the one you have learned to call too much? She stays only until July 9. While she does, let yourself be too much. That was always the point.
Link in bio to book.
#venus #venusinleo #leo #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

On June 30, Jupiter enters Leo, the temple of the Sun, the one sign the great light rules outright. It has not been here since 2014, and it stays about thirteen months. What makes this passage rare is that Jupiter does not arrive alone. It becomes the switchboard, and the whole sky wires into it.
Leo is fixed fire: the fire of the hearth, the production of light in the world, the warmth that wants to make something lasting enough to hold its flame. It rules the heart in the body and in the chart, the radiant center the whole system turns around, and it governs performance, play, and the childlike spirit that creates for the joy of it.
From Leo, Jupiter reaches across the sky, and in July it all converges. It opposes Pluto in Aquarius; Ebertin reads Jupiter and Pluto as prosperity built through hidden means, the buried labor that surfaces all at once, and the opposition brings it into the light. In nearly the same breath, July 20 to 21, Jupiter trines Neptune in Aries and sextiles Uranus in Gemini, all within a breath of 4 degrees. Ebertin called Jupiter and Uranus the "thank god" contact, sudden freedom and unforeseen breakthrough; Jupiter and Neptune lift vision and faith to their height, with the old caution that not every dream is true. The entire outer field, discharging through a single sign.
Then August. A total solar eclipse at 20 degrees of Leo on the 12th, and on the 31st the opening trine of the Jupiter and Saturn cycle, Leo to Aries, the first harmony since their 2020 conjunction in Aquarius, the one that opened the age of air. A cycle born in air, reaching its first trine in fire: expansion meeting architecture.
So find Leo in your own chart. Whatever house the lion rules for you is the room all of this happens in, the part of your life about to fire off and stay lit for thirteen months. What is yours to be seen doing, and what stays yours alone?
Soon I will be sitting down with Catherine Urban to take this further. And Venus has already slipped into Leo ahead of all of it, more on her in her own reel.
Link in bio to book.
#jupiterinleo #jupiter #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #leo

On June 30, Jupiter enters Leo, the temple of the Sun, the one sign the great light rules outright. It has not been here since 2014, and it stays about thirteen months. What makes this passage rare is that Jupiter does not arrive alone. It becomes the switchboard, and the whole sky wires into it.
Leo is fixed fire: the fire of the hearth, the production of light in the world, the warmth that wants to make something lasting enough to hold its flame. It rules the heart in the body and in the chart, the radiant center the whole system turns around, and it governs performance, play, and the childlike spirit that creates for the joy of it.
From Leo, Jupiter reaches across the sky, and in July it all converges. It opposes Pluto in Aquarius; Ebertin reads Jupiter and Pluto as prosperity built through hidden means, the buried labor that surfaces all at once, and the opposition brings it into the light. In nearly the same breath, July 20 to 21, Jupiter trines Neptune in Aries and sextiles Uranus in Gemini, all within a breath of 4 degrees. Ebertin called Jupiter and Uranus the "thank god" contact, sudden freedom and unforeseen breakthrough; Jupiter and Neptune lift vision and faith to their height, with the old caution that not every dream is true. The entire outer field, discharging through a single sign.
Then August. A total solar eclipse at 20 degrees of Leo on the 12th, and on the 31st the opening trine of the Jupiter and Saturn cycle, Leo to Aries, the first harmony since their 2020 conjunction in Aquarius, the one that opened the age of air. A cycle born in air, reaching its first trine in fire: expansion meeting architecture.
So find Leo in your own chart. Whatever house the lion rules for you is the room all of this happens in, the part of your life about to fire off and stay lit for thirteen months. What is yours to be seen doing, and what stays yours alone?
Soon I will be sitting down with Catherine Urban to take this further. And Venus has already slipped into Leo ahead of all of it, more on her in her own reel.
Link in bio to book.
#jupiterinleo #jupiter #astrology #astrologersofinstagram #leo

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