Harmonizing a unique blend of ancient, classical and modern Astrological lineages. Translator of Time and Stars. Astrology as an Art.

Every Full Moon answers to a ruler, and the Sagittarius Full Moon on May 31st answers to Jupiter — so the first thing a traditional astrologer does is find out where Jupiter is standing. It stands in Cancer, in its exaltation, the most honored a planet can be, seated at the head of the table with its hand open.
That sets up the tension humming under this Moon. Sagittarius wants to leave — the horizon, the open road, the country it hasn't seen yet. But the planet it answers to is sitting in Cancer, the hearth and the roots and the people already gathered at your table. Half of you wants to go. Half of you wants to stay and water what's already growing.
Now look at what's moving toward Jupiter through the dark: Venus, the other gift. The two kindest lights in the traditional sky, drifting toward each other in the warmest sign there is. They don't touch until June 9th, both at twenty-five degrees of Cancer — but a conjunction was never a single night, it's a long approach, and the Full Moon is already leaning toward a Jupiter that Venus is reaching for. The sweetness hasn't arrived yet, but you can feel it coming up the road.
This is the part the old astrologers would never skip. When the ruler of a Moon is being courted by the other benefic, the Moon is pointing past itself, toward something gentler already on its way. So if this Full Moon asked you to let something go, here is what was waiting underneath it: Venus and Jupiter in Cancer, the deep watering. You pull up the spent thing, and then you sink your roots into what actually feeds you — the hearth, the ones who feel like safety, the bonds worth going deeper into. The Full Moon shows you the ending. Venus and Jupiter show you what it was clearing the ground for.
#fullmooninsagittarius #sagittarius #fullmoon #astrology #astrologersofinstagram🌟🌕✨💫

On May 31st the Full Moon stands at almost ten degrees of Sagittarius, and it sets the two great lights of the sky down on two of the four royal stars at once. The Sun comes to rest on Aldebaran, the eye of the Bull, at ten degrees of Gemini. The Moon comes to rest on Antares, the heart of the Scorpion, at ten degrees of Sagittarius — both within a breath of exact.
The ancient Persians called these four stars the Watchers, sentinels posted at the four corners of the year. Aldebaran kept the gate of spring, where the light walks in. Antares kept the gate of autumn, where the light learns to leave. And the old astronomers noticed something the sky seems to do on purpose: these two are never allowed to meet. When the Bull's eye lifts in the east, the Scorpion's heart is already going down in the west. Five thousand years of circling, and not once a meeting — except through us, on a night like this, when the two great lights stand watch on each of them and let them face each other through our eyes.
Ptolemy gave them both the nature of Mars, but they wear it differently. Aldebaran is the eye that fixes on the horizon and walks straight toward it. Antares is the heart so red the ancients mistook it for the planet of war — the one willing to go down into the dark and come back changed. One sees, one feels; one sets out, one descends. And both keep the same ancient promise — honor, power, the win — but only while integrity holds.
There's one last thread. The Moon touches Saturn in Aries, where Saturn sits in fall, presiding over the slow coming-apart of old structures and habits already turning brittle. Antares named the season; Saturn brings the tools. Autumn in the garden — the dried stalk, the spent ground — and the touch of Saturn is what lets you pull it up, not in grief but in recognition. This Moon doesn't ask you to choose between the eye and the heart. It asks if you can carry both: the clear sight to name what's ending, and the depth to bless it for what it was.
#antares #aldebaran #fullmooninsagittarius #fullmoon #astrology

Radix. It is Latin for root, the same root as the word radical, and in the old natal texts the birth chart itself was called the radix, because everything refers back to it. Every transit, return, progression and direction is a derived chart, a branch off the root, and we read each one against the radix because that is the only thing that tells us how a movement will actually land for a given person.
When you hear about an upcoming retrograde or a planet changing signs, you might expect things to feel a certain way according to the general description you were given. But how we experience astrology has a lot to do with our own tendencies and character. Mercury retrograde might feel far more frustrating for someone easily stressed by miscommunication than for someone who is generally flexible with changing plans. Same sky, different root.
This is what Jean-Baptiste Morin laid out in the seventeenth century. The celestial bodies are universal causes, indifferent in themselves. Venus is love, Mars is drive, the same for everyone, carrying no fixed good or ill in the abstract. It is the conditions they fall into that give them their determination. A Mars that looks debilitated on paper might be the ruler of your fourth house, telling you that you came from a circumstance that asked more of you, that you had to build and forge integrity around your roots. That is not a broken planet. It is a starting condition.
There is no one-size-fits-all prediction, because you, your chart and your lived experience come first. The chart was never a verdict. It is a starting position. The planet does not decide, and neither do the conditions. What you do with what you were given is the part that is yours.
#astrology #radix #birthchartreadings #natalreadings #astrologers of Instagram

The Full Moon rises May 31 at 10 degrees of Sagittarius, with the Sun across from her in Gemini, sitting beside Uranus. But this is no quiet opposition. The lunar Nodes square the whole event from Pisces and Virgo, and so this Moon cannot simply shine and be finished. She stands at a crossroads, lit from above, asked to choose a direction she can feel before she can see it. And she does not move through Sagittarius alone. Lilith is there in the sign with her, the one who was sent away and returned unbroken, the voice that will not be softened or managed, that will not say the polite thing when the true thing is sitting right there. That is the temperature of this Moon, honest to the point of heat.
On the far side of the sky, the Sun stands beside Uranus in the early degrees of Gemini, bright and electric and sudden, the flash of the new arriving before we are ready. It is no accident this lands while the world talks faster and louder about technology and about what we are building. The sky takes no side. It holds the question up to the light and lets us look. And then the chart exhales, because the Moon is in fire, and from where she stands she reaches all the way across to Aries, to the planets we have watched gather there all year. Saturn and Neptune, and walking among them Vesta and Pallas. She sends a long, easy trine into all of it, sign to sign, so the tension has somewhere to go. The dream slowly building in Aries, the structure and the vision and the flame and the plan, is in conversation with this Moon. She trusts it. She hands it the heat.
This is a fire-and-air lunation, flame and wind, the spark and the breath that carries it, the Moon flowing into the wide and generous shape between Pluto, Uranus and Neptune. So notice where it lands in you. A truth that wants to be spoken. A direction quietly asking to be chosen. Something new already on its way, with or without your permission. The Moon is not waiting to learn which way she is turning. She already knows.
#fullmoonsagittarius #fullmoon #sagittarius #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Note we DO not have an exact birth time for Pope Leo
September 14 1955 Chicago, Illinois
His birth chart reads like this document written in advance — so here's why it landed now. Uranus, the breaker of old form, is moving through Gemini, the realm of information and language, squaring his Virgo Sun-Mars-Pluto. A square asks for action: the great disruptor pressing on a man built for moral discernment, who answers by using a centuries-old form — the encyclical — to deliver a radically present-day warning about information itself. Underneath all of it, Pluto in Aquarius, the slow dismantling of concentrated power and the question of who the collective tool belongs to. He signed it on the 135th anniversary of the encyclical his namesake wrote about industrial labor, and released it the week Mars in Taurus squared that very Pluto. Then the crown of it: he has Jupiter in Leo natally, and on June 30th Jupiter comes home to Leo — his Jupiter return, once every twelve years, the renewal of an entire mission. He released his defining teaching right on the threshold of it. Astrology doesn't predict the headline. It shows you the pattern underneath. And this one was written the day he was born.
#Ai #popeleo #astrologersofinstagram #astrology #transits

We do not have exact birth time for Pope Leo
September 14 1955- Chicago, Illinois

Pope Leo the Fourteenth is a Virgo Sun, and it sits right alongside Mars and Pluto in the Virgo-into-Leo stretch of his chart. Virgo is the great discerner — the sign of work, of service, of weighing whether a tool is serving the human being or using them. So when he writes that nothing in AI is magical, that every clean answer rests on the hidden labor of millions, that is a Virgo Sun pulling back the curtain to show you the hands behind the machine. Sun conjunct Pluto looks straight at concealed power and doesn't look away, and Mars gives it the spine to name what it sees. His deepest layer, Pluto, sits in Leo — the sovereign, the heart, the dignity of the individual self — and he chose the name Leo. A document that comes down to defending human dignity against being reduced to data is Leo, through and through. The man named Leo, protecting the lion in each of us. Part two is the transits, and the timing is the whole story. Follow so you don't miss it.
#astrology
#astrologersofinstagram

In part one, Sedna in the Pleiades — the body that recognizes before language does, the Monet nobody could see. Sedna is the depth witness. She is not working alone.
Saturn met Neptune in Aries this year. Neptune dissolves. Saturn structures. Together in the cardinal fire sign, they are dissolving the agreement about what is real and forging a new one in the same motion. This is happening everywhere at once. Not just in art. In politics. In religion. In money. In identity. In what counts as evidence. In what counts as a source. Every domain that depended on a shared agreement is going through the same dissolution. The Monet thread is one piece of that. Six million people unable to tell a real painting from a generated one. The inability is not new — the visibility of the inability is new. Saturn-Neptune in Aries is making it visible.
Here is what makes the next month specific. Sedna is in the Pleiades, conjunct Alcyone. Sedna is disposed by Mercury — Mercury rules Gemini, and Mercury governs how Sedna's signal reaches us. Right now, Mercury is in Gemini, in its own domicile. The channel is clear. In early June, Mercury enters Cancer, leaving its own sign and moving into the sign of the body. On June 29, Mercury stations retrograde at 26 degrees Cancer, direct July 23 at 16 degrees. Mercury retrograde in Cancer is in active square to Saturn and Neptune in Aries the entire time. The dissolution of what is real. The retrograde of the planet that disposes Sedna. The review of how we name what we are seeing — inside the sign of the body that knows. All in hard aspect at once.
The volume is about to come up. What looked like a question in one Twitter thread is going to look like a question in many places at once. The catch in the throat when something is not what it is being called. That is the older instrument. That is Sedna's evidence. That is Saturn-Neptune in Aries asking it of you across every domain at the same time.
Citations:
— Abi Awomosu, They Didn't Steal Your Art. They Stole the Story About What Art Is (Substack, 2026)

Someone posted a real Monet on Twitter, labeled it AI generated, and asked what made it inferior to the real thing. Six million people saw it. Over a thousand responded with confident, devastating critiques. Incoherent composition. No sense of space. An inconsistently saturated muddle of greens. All of it wrong. All of it about a Monet. Two people got it right — Kendric Tonn, an oil painter, who assessed the texture as credible as a physical object, and A.V. Marraccini, an art historian, who identified it from the brushwork and the color shift characteristic of Monet's late paintings as his vision changed. They were using the older instrument. The body. The accumulated, embodied knowing that lives in the hand and the eye, not in the label.
Sedna is in the Pleiades, conjunct Alcyone. She crossed into Gemini in 2024 and takes 11,400 years to orbit the sun. And right now, she is exact conjunct Uranus — the conjunction perfects this month. Uranus is sudden release, the channel of the new. Sedna is the depth witness, the 11,400-year memory of what was here before the alphabet, before the institutional channel, before the label. Their conjunction at the Pleiades is the moment the older knowing breaks the surface through the channel of the new.
A 2023 study from VU Amsterdam confirmed the mechanism. The same artwork is preferred less when labeled AI made. Perceived as less creative. Induced less awe. The label does not just change the analysis. It suppresses the emotional response. The Monet experiment is the wound Sedna is naming. The painting moved people for over a century. The label told them feeling was not warranted. They stopped feeling. The recovery starts in the same place — direct perception, the body that recognizes necessity before language does. Sedna is the depth witness. She is not working alone. Saturn and Neptune in Aries are dissolving the same agreement across a much larger field. Part two coming.
Citations:
— Abi Awomosu, They Didn't Steal Your Art. They Stole the Story About What Art Is (Substack, 2026)
— Millet, Buehler, Du & Kokkoris, Defending humankind: Anthropocentric bias in the appreciation of AI art, Computers in Human Behavior 14

Let me say something out loud. AI makes terrible art. AI is a terrible writer. AI is a terrible artist. It can help shape, spark, edit, offer ideas — it is a useful tool the way a hammer is a useful tool. But the made thing — the painting, the poem, the essay that moves you — does not come from a machine. It comes from a specific person who lived a specific life and needed to make a specific thing. That is not a complaint about the technology. That is information.
Neptune in Aries is the configuration making this visible. Neptune in Pisces gave us the curated version of being soulful — the aesthetic of the real, the performance of authenticity. Neptune in Aries is stripping that. It is asking what is actually under the curation. Who you are when there is nothing left to perform. The configuration is brutal and necessary. It is making authenticity impossible to fake.
Pluto in Aquarius is the maximum of interconnection — the networks, the mesh, the way we are wired into each other all the time. AI is one of its expressions. And because Pluto in Aquarius is the maximum of the connection, it is also the configuration that makes us want to unplug. The great unplug. The pull back into the body, into the breath, into the dirt under your fingernails, into the things that cannot travel through a screen. The unplug is not against the air era. It is the configuration's other half.
And here is what is coming. Jupiter ingresses into Leo on June 30 — the great benefic moving into the sign of the heart. Jupiter in Leo will trine Neptune in Aries on July 20, both at 4 degrees, fire to fire. What Neptune is stripping, Jupiter is about to bless. The people who let themselves be stripped down to what is actually theirs are the ones the configuration rewards.
Neptune asks who you are. Pluto takes apart what made you forget. Jupiter blesses what survives. And what surfaces is not new. It is the oldest answer. Love. Humility. Authenticity. The qualities the soul knew before it had a name. The things that cannot be manufactured because they have to be lived. So don't worry. AI is a terrible artist. The configuration is on the side of the human.
#aiart #aiartist #astrologer

If Monday's Mars-Pluto square was the hammer, the rest of this week is what the hammer was for.
Thursday May 28th at 11:02 PM Pacific, Venus in Cancer squares Saturn in Aries. A cardinal square this time, not fixed. The pressure changes shape. And neither planet is meeting the other clean. Venus is applying to her conjunction with Jupiter on June 9th at 25° Cancer — the kiss of the two benefics, in the sign of Jupiter's exaltation. She is on her way to blessing. Saturn is separating from his February conjunction with Neptune and the April conjunction with Mars — he has just been remade by that Aries pile-up, carrying the residue of the dream that had to start making itself. So when Venus squares Saturn, a Venus on her way to blessing meets a Saturn who has just been reshaped by the dream. The question is not whether the relationship hits a wall. The question is what you are bringing into the blessing, and what is structurally true enough to come with you.
The Moon is the messenger between all of it. She is in Libra today — already weighing. By Wednesday she crosses into Scorpio and passes over the 5° Mars and Pluto held on Monday, picking up what was forged there. By Sunday at 4:45 AM Pacific she is full in Sagittarius at 9°56' — the second full moon of the month, the blue moon. Sagittarius is Jupiter's sign. The bow. The arrow. The horizon. The same Jupiter that Venus is racing toward on June 9th owns the full moon on May 31st.
The whole week points in one direction. Monday forged it. Thursday asks what you are bringing. Sunday gives it somewhere to fly.

Guys not feeling my best and I have a stomach bug! 🪲 (Mars/Pluto casualty)
Blessings to you all this week! And take care of yourselves!
#venus #saturn

The week ahead has a shape worth knowing before it begins.
Today, the Sun in Gemini reaches what the tradition calls the bending of the nodes. Valens cautioned against beginning new endeavors when the nodes are active, saying the outcomes can be inconstant and incomplete. The bending is the moment a planet stands at perfect square to the head and tail of the dragon — and the nodes cannot be taken alone. They are a visual representation, written into the sky, of the fact that everything in astrology rests on polarity.
When a planet arrives at the bending, it stands at a crisis point, a churning point, a pivot of fate. And you must check which bending. The North bending — where the Sun is today — is the point where energy comes in. Where the latent thing presses upward and asks to be made visible. Steven Forrest reads the squares to the nodes as karmic storylines asking to be rewritten. What is being turned up this week is meant to come up.
Tomorrow, the Sun makes its first harmonious contact with Pluto from his new sign — a trine, Gemini to Aquarius. Which means the Sun is simultaneously at the North bending and trining Pluto. Whatever is being churned up by the nodal pressure is also being touched by Pluto on its way to the surface. The depths are not just permitting the rising. They are participating in it.
This also activates the Barbault cradle — Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in Aries, Uranus in Gemini — because the Sun is now entering that conversation. The personal light is meeting the generational architecture.
Today also brings Mars in Taurus square Pluto in Aquarius, Mars in detriment. The pressure of Pluto is felt twice today — once as friction through Mars, once as the bending through the Sun. The friction surfaces what has been held. The bending names it as fated. The trine, tomorrow, lets it move.
Part two comes tomorrow.
#weeklyastrology #suntrinepluto #geminiseason #gemini #astrology

Mars in Taurus squares Pluto retrograde in Aquarius on May 25th at 5° of the fixed signs. This is the waxing square of the cycle that began at the January 27th conjunction at 3° Aquarius — the first crisis in action, the moment the seed planted at the conjunction has to meet the world.
Mars is in detriment in Taurus. He cannot strike fast or clean. He has to work with body, with weight, with what is actually valuable. Pluto is retrograde and in the superior position — the slower, deeper planet holds the leverage. And the square is fixed sign to fixed sign. Taurus and Aquarius do not move easily. The immovable meets the unrelenting.
Reinhold Ebertin gave Mars-Pluto a range. At one end, brutality and the use of force. At the other end, the supreme effort to achieve a goal — work of a superhuman order. The part nobody tells you is that the second end also requires force. The question is not whether there will be force. The question is what the force is in service of.
Not the week for car racing, aggressive games, major travel, or power struggles where retaliation is on the table. This is the week for moving the heavy thing. For severing what has already died. For making the swift, considered decision you have been circling.
Combustion or construction. The aspect does not pick. You do.
The cycle continues to the opposition on October 3rd.
#marspluto #astrology #transits #astrologersofinstagram #service

Today the Moon meets the South Node at four degrees of Virgo. The nodes are the places where the Moon's orbit crosses the path of the Sun — the head of the dragon and the tail. Where the Moon climbs toward the light, and where she slips back into shadow. The tail is the place of shedding.
In the Western tradition we have been a little afraid of the South Node. We have called it loss, depletion, the thing that slips through our fingers when we weren't looking. Because the West is built on accumulation, on more, on the climb. The older Eastern framings hold the South Node differently. It is the place of moksha. Of release. Of the long exhale. The practice of letting something fall away on purpose, because it has already done its work.
Today the Moon — the body, the mood, the inner weather — is resting on that point. And she is resting in Virgo. Mutable earth. The craftsman. The one who refines. The one who is always asking how to be of use. So the day asks for an analogue pace. Paper instead of screen. A walk instead of a scroll. A voice on the phone instead of a thumb on a keyboard.
And underneath the quiet, something is rearranging. You may notice that the things that used to pull you forward — the achievement, the metric, the gold star — feel a little further away today. A little less interesting. A little less yours. And in their place, something softer rises. The work that satisfies you whether anyone is watching. The task that asks nothing of you in return. The small, unrewarded thing that feels like yours.
That is the dragon shedding. That is what moksha looks like on a Saturday in May.
The North Node in Pisces is asking us to dream wider. The South Node in Virgo is asking what we are willing to stop refining. Less is more as the Moon walks with the tail of the dragon today.
The dragon is shedding. Let it.
#astrology #traditionalastrology #hellenisticastrology #lunarnodes #southnode

Today the Sun meets Uranus at one degree of Gemini. Not a passing aspect — a cazimi. Uranus held in the heart of the Sun. The first Sun-Uranus conjunction in this sign since 1948, and the seeding moment of the next eight years of Uranus in Gemini, which runs through 2033.
This is also the first Gemini season we have had since Uranus entered the sign. The next four weeks are the first real field the seed gets to grow into. The first New Moon in Gemini since Uranus arrived lands in mid-June — pay attention to what comes through then. It is the next planting.
When the Sun meets Uranus, the mind quickens. Originality sharpens. Concentration narrows toward an objective the body has not yet caught up to — a far-seen vision, a love of freedom, a pull toward reform. There is a revolutionary spirit in this. It is the rhythmic function of the body, the pulse, the breath, the cells remembering they were always meant to move. In Gemini, all of this gets concentrated in the mind itself. The wiring lights up. The thought loops that have been running on a track for years might suddenly stop running.
This is the signature of the inventor and the reformer. The technician. The one who sees the shape of the thing before the thing has been built. It can come with a sudden turn in life — a change of place or vocation, an adjustment to new conditions that the old ones never made room for. It can also come with strain. A tense inner life. A self-willed manner. A contradictory nature that pushes against the very thing it is trying to build. A muddled head before a clear one. The mind running ahead of what the heart has had time to feel.
Both are true at once. That is the nature of Uranus.
Wherever one degree of Gemini sits in your chart, something is being lit up today that will keep unfolding for the next eight years. Pay attention to what arrives. The thought, the message, the person, the pivot. This is the seed.
#sunuranus #geminiseason #astrologer #astrologersogToday the Sun meets Uranus at one degree of Gemini. Not a passing aspect — a cazimi. Uranus held in the heart of the Sun. The first Sun-Uranus conjunction in this sign since 1948, and the seeding moment of the next

On the December solstice of 2020, Jupiter and Saturn met in the first degree of Aquarius. The ancients called them the Great Chronocrators — the two markers of time. Every two hundred years they change element. Fire. Earth. Air. Water. Astrologers call this the Great Mutation.
For the last two hundred years, every Jupiter-Saturn conjunction was in earth signs. The Industrial Revolution. The modern corporation. Capital. Empire. The slow gathering of wealth and power into fewer and fewer hands. Earth gathers. Earth holds. Earth accumulates.
On the 2020 solstice, the earth cycle ended. The air cycle began. The next earth conjunction will not occur for nearly six hundred years. Air does something else. Air disperses. Air distributes. Pluto is in Aquarius until 2044. Uranus is in Gemini through 2033. The outer planets are reinforcing the cycle from above.
And then this week, Jeff Bezos went on CNBC and called for the bottom half of American earners to pay zero federal income tax — while Senator Warren has just reintroduced the Ultra-Millionaire Tax Act, Senator Booker has proposed the Keep Your Pay Act, and California has a billionaire tax on the November ballot. Bezos is not the only voice. He is one voice inside a much bigger conversation that has appeared, all at once, about who holds what and on what terms.
Aquarius has an opinion. The spiritual principle of Aquarius is that the well belongs to the village. That the one is sustained by the many. That hoarding is the opposite of what this sign teaches. The water bearer pours the water out. That is what the sign does. That is what the sign has always done.
Two hundred years of accumulation does not let go quietly. But the pressure to let go is now coming from every direction at once. The air doesn't ask permission. The air just starts to move.
We have two hundred years of this question. We are at the front edge of it.
#bezos #wealthdiscrepancy #ageofair #ultramillionairetaxact #generosity

In the ancient world, when someone got really sick, they did not go to a doctor. They walked, sometimes for weeks, to her temple. The most famous was at Epidaurus, and the ruins are still there. The healing did not begin with a treatment. It began with a cleansing — sacred baths, fasting, a cleansing diet, and small clay figurines shaped like the part of the body that needed healing, placed on the altar so the body's request could be made visible. This was called catharsis. That is where the word comes from.
Then they entered the abaton, the sanctuary, and lay down on the stone floor to sleep. Sacred snakes moved freely through the chamber as the living body of the god himself. Asclepius or Hygeia would appear in the dream and prescribe a treatment — a specific herb, a specific bath, a return home by a different road. And sometimes the dream itself was the healing. At Epidaurus, three marble tablets dated to 350 BC still preserve about seventy of these case histories. We know this happened.
This is what Hygeia is in a chart. She is the place where the somatic body and the dreaming mind are the same body. Where the symptom is also a message. Where what you cannot say out loud, the body is already saying. Where the dream is the diagnosis.
Right now she is transiting Gemini, the sign of the mind, and she is not alone in there. Uranus is also in Gemini — the nervous system getting an upgrade, the synapse firing faster, artificial intelligence and neural interfaces, the brain processing more per second than at any point in human history. And under all of that, Sedna is also in Gemini — the deepest waters of the collective unconscious, the grief of generations, the memory the mind agreed not to remember, now rising into the mental environment.
Uranus is speeding the mind up. Sedna is bringing the depth up. This is why people are dysregulated, exhausted, dreaming in strange new ways. The mind is running at the speed of Uranus, the body is holding the weight of Sedna, and they are not currently on speaking terms.
In the middle of those two — Hygeia. The translator. The asteroid whose entire job is to be the breath between the synapse and the deep water.

Hygeia is asteroid number ten, discovered in 1849, and the word hygiene comes directly from her name. In the myth she is the daughter of Asclepius, the god of medicine, who was taught his craft by Chiron. So the lineage of healers runs Chiron, then Asclepius, then Hygeia — three different doors into the same room, three different faces of how the body comes back to itself.
She is most often depicted holding a cup, and from the cup a serpent drinks. The cup is the medicine, the thing that has been prepared and steeped and measured and made into something the body can take in. The serpent is the wisdom of the body itself, the body that sheds its skin and is renewed, the body that knows things the mind has not yet caught up to. The Greek word for medicine is pharmakon, and pharmakon means both remedy and poison at the same time — the same substance, with the dose deciding which one it becomes. So the serpent choosing to drink from the cup is the patient choosing the medicine, the body agreeing to be healed, the moment of consent that has to happen before any healing actually moves through. That is what she holds. The cup that restores and the serpent that knows.
In a natal chart she lives close to the sixth house, and the sixth house is not just the health of the body — it is also the health of the soul that has to live inside that body. The daily devotion, the work, the service, the thing you do every day that either feeds you or quietly eats you alive. She has a foot in the twelfth as well, the spiritual body, the dream body, the hospital and the temple and the long retreat, the place you go to be undone and remade. She is the line between those two houses — the body and the soul, on the same axis, asking to be tended as one thing.
The Australian astrologer Roderick Kidston, who spent his life bringing the asteroids back into the astrological vocabulary and whose glyphs for many of them are still used in Solar Fire today, described her signature as something like a Moon-Pluto conjunction in Virgo. The Moon is the body and the feelings and the inner waters. Pluto is depth, what has been buried, what has to come up to be composted.

Venus in Cancer is not the Venus of the gallery wall or the perfume counter or the red carpet. She is the Venus of the kitchen table with the candle already lit. The bed made with the good linens. The bowl of stone fruit on a wooden counter. The bath drawn before you knew you needed it. She is the Venus who remembers what you like to eat. In water Venus does not perform beauty, she tends it. She is the aesthetic of the held thing, the room that holds you, the meal that holds you, the friendship that has held for fifteen years.
And she is not arriving alone. Venus is walking toward Jupiter. Jupiter is already in Cancer, in his exaltation, the sign where he is most honored, most generous, most himself. And Venus is closing the distance. On June 9th they meet exactly, the two traditional benefics coming together in the sign that Jupiter loves most. This is part of why so many astrologers are flagging late May into early June as a breath. A pause. A window. After everything Aries and Mars and Saturn and Neptune have been asking of us, the sky is offering something softer. Something with arms.
Cancer is a cardinal sign and people forget this about Cancer. There is initiation here. Venus in Cancer initiates by gathering. She makes the room a place worth coming back to. She is the host before the guests arrive. She rules over love, but the love is wider than romance. It is the love that knows your coffee order, the love that keeps the soup on the stove, the love between sisters and long friends and between a person and the place they grew up. The love that does not announce itself because it does not have to.
This is the window to rest. To take the nap in the good bed. To make the meal for someone. To let someone make the meal for you. To choose, deliberately, to care for one another. To widen the container until everyone you love is inside it. And if we can hold this energy and push it outward, the cancerian container becomes something larger than our own homes. It becomes the room the whole culture is invited into.
That is Venus in Cancer. Walking toward Jupiter. And the sky is doing it with us, right now.
#venusincancer #venusconjunctjupiter #venus #cancer #jupiteri

Fate versus free will is an outdated debate in astrology. Fate is too narrow. The chart is not a single road, and Renaissance astrologers were already pushing back against pure determinism. Astra inclinant sed non obligant. The stars incline, they do not compel. But free will is also too clean. It assumes everyone has the same access to choice, and that is not true. Where you are born, what body you are born into, what economic conditions, what historical moment, what conditioning, these things shape how much room a person has to move. Pretending the chart is met by an equal measure of free will in every life is a fantasy.
So I work with a different frame. Potential and agency. The chart shows the potentials. Many of them. Some in tension, some mutually reinforcing. The natal chart is a multivalent structure, many possible lines all encoded in the same configuration, none of them the only road. Agency is what you bring to that structure. It is not unlimited. It is whatever room you actually have, in your actual life, in your actual conditions. And within that room you can choose which of the potentials to move toward. You can see a beneficial potential and start doing the work, the Saturn work, the slow building, the showing up, to bring it into form.
This is the working frame. Not what is going to happen to you. Not what you can manifest out of thin air. The potentials your chart actually carries, met by the agency you actually have, in the conditions you are actually in. Showing you the structure of the moment you were born into and the structure of the moment you are in now, and helping you read where the support is. Not every part of your chart is going to be going well at the same time. There are seasons when one configuration is supported and seasons when another is being asked to compost. The work is reading where the support is, moving with that, letting the rest cook. The sky means it with you. It does not mean it at you.
#astrology #fatevsfreewill #astrologersofinstagram #potential #agency

I have Venus in the eighth house. The house of the veil, of merging, of what passes between two people that does not pass between anyone else. In traditional astrology the eighth is a difficult house — I think of it as the danger house. And with Venus there, I was always willing to walk straight into that danger for love.
I fell fast and I fell hard. I was the pursuer. What I thought I wanted was the unbridled thing — the kind of love that messes you up and tears you into something new. A plutonian deal. I also have Venus and Pluto in aspect by declination, one of the hidden aspects that does not always show up on the chart wheel. Pluto and Venus in conversation. The compulsion built right into the love function.
So that is what I lived. One relationship left me the shell of a person — desperate, lying to myself, lying to other people, not okay.
And then I found astrology. It did not tell me to leave. It did not tell me what to do. It showed me what was actually written. Because what was also in my chart, the whole time, was a beautiful trine from Venus to Saturn.
Venus trine Saturn is the most underrated love placement in the sky. The textbooks call it boring. The older partner. The slow love. But Saturn is the most underrated planet in the sky, full stop. Saturn is sobriety. Saturn is cold and dry, which is what lets you see clearly — the planet that takes the emotion out of the equation long enough for you to actually look at what is in front of you.
After astrology, I started dating someone older. Calm. Even. The exact opposite of every man I had ever chosen. And because of that steadiness, that sobriety — I was able to have a baby. I was able to build a family. I was able to live in a house where nobody was screaming.
The astrology did not change. The chart was always there. What changed was that I learned to read it.
That is what astrology does. It cannot tell you when you will meet your person, no matter what anyone on the internet says. What it can do is show you what your Venus actually resonates with — what kind of love your nature is built for, versus what kind of love your wound has been chasing. Let's look for the healthy love choices in

There is a technique in Hellenistic astrology called annual profection. The whole chart turns at your birthday. Every year, a new sign gets activated. A new planet takes charge of the year — the time lord.
It works simply. You start at the rising sign at age zero. Each year you move forward by one sign. The planet that rules that sign becomes the lord of your year. Twelve years later, you are back at the ascendant and the cycle begins again. This is one of the oldest predictive techniques we have. Almost every major astrologer from the Hellenistic tradition used it. It is the companion piece to the solar return — they were always meant to be read together. The solar return shows you the weather of the year. The profection tells you who is in charge of it.
This year, I am moving from a Moon-ruled year into a Sun-ruled year. That changes the quality of the year. The Moon and the Sun carry entirely different energies. The Moon is cool, reflective, receptive — it moves quickly, it changes, it holds. The Sun is warm, steady, radiant — it does not change, it shines. The year ahead has a different temperature than the one behind me. A different rhythm. A different kind of light.
What this also means, practically, is that for the next twelve months the Sun is the planet I am watching. Where the Sun is, what the Sun is doing, what aspects the Sun is making in the sky. The eclipses. The Sun's ingresses. The Sun's annual return to my natal degree. When the Sun is your time lord, the sky speaks to you through the Sun.
That is what makes profections so beautiful. It is not just a chart for the year. It is a question. Who is holding the year for you? What planet is your sky speaking through? Yours might be different. Yours might be Mars, or Venus, or Mercury, or Saturn. Whoever it is — that is the planet you want to be watching.
Solar return and profection readings are open. If you want to know who is holding your year — the time lord and the weather of your solar return — link in bio.
With deep thanks to Chris Brennan, whose work recovering Hellenistic time-lord techniques has made this language available to all of us.
#astrologypodcast #astrology #timelord #bi

The Sun is the heart of the chart. Not a metaphor — the traditional astrologers meant it. The heart. The vital force. The animating spark that makes a body alive rather than just a body. It is the seat of sovereignty and dignity. It is the one that gives without diminishing — it shines on everything and is not lessened by what it gives.
And once a year, it comes back. Back to the exact degree it was holding the moment you took your first breath. That return is your solar return.
Here is what that actually means. The Sun reaches your natal degree, and for a few hours the whole sky reorganizes around that point. A new chart forms. A new ascendant rises. A new set of houses gets activated. New planets sit on your angles. New rulers take charge of your year. That chart is a portrait of the year ahead — not a forecast, not a prediction, but a portrait. The weather of the year you are walking into. Where the emphasis falls. What gets lit up. What gets quiet. Which house carries the year's gravity.
The word revolution comes from the Latin revolutio — to turn again. Long before it meant overthrowing a government, it meant this. The heavens turning. Copernicus used the word for the planets long before it was used for politics. The technique itself is ancient. Dorotheus of Sidon wrote the earliest surviving treatment in the 1st century CE. Abu Ma'shar refined it into the full layered system in 9th century Baghdad. That architecture — the solar return chart read alongside the profections, alongside the natal — is what we are still using.
Macrobius, in the 5th century, called the Sun mens mundi — the mind of the world. The Sun crafts the year.
You do not earn the Sun coming back. It comes back anyway. That is the gift. The original revolution. The renewal of permission to be exactly who you are.
Solar return readings are open. If you want to know what your year actually looks like — the chart, the houses lit up, the weather of your next trip around the Sun — link in bio.
With deep thanks to the lineage: Plato, Dorotheus, Macrobius, Abu Ma'shar, and to the contemporary scholarship of Benjamin Dykes, James Holden, and David Pingree, whose translations keep t

Tomorrow morning Venus leaves Gemini and crosses into Cancer — the sign of nourishment, of ancestry, of the deep feeding. Venus in Cancer is tender. She is the cup of water you didn't know you were thirsty for. On the same day Mars leaves Aries, where he has been forging and burning forward for weeks, and moves into Taurus.
People hear that Mars is in detriment in Taurus and assume it means weakness. I don't think it does. Planets in detriment work harder. Mars in Taurus is patient — he waits with the idea until the moment is right, then builds with a staying power that fire alone cannot match.
And then the morning after they both arrive, Venus and Mars reach across to each other at the first degree of each sign. Zero Cancer. Zero Taurus. A sextile born at the threshold.
The ancients called Venus and Mars together the wrangling and the jangling — the two of them never quite agree, he pushes and she pulls, he acts and she receives, and the friction between them is the most generative aspect in the sky. The moment where something gets conceived.
But do not mistake Mars in Taurus for rest. Taurus is asking you to dig your heels in, to get obstinate, to make actual decisions about what you are building and what is no longer working. And the sky is not letting up — a week after the sextile, Mars walks into an exact square with Pluto on the 25th at five degrees, the body meeting the underworld. In the same window Venus moves up to meet Jupiter on June 9th at twenty-five degrees Cancer, the two benefics in the sign of nourishment.
So this sextile is not a resting place. It is the conception. Venus shows you what you love. Mars shows you what you do about it. When they meet at the threshold of two new signs, on the morning after the crossing, something is being asked of you — not a question of the mind, a question of the body. What is being built. What is being fed. The wrangling and the jangling. The making of the next thing.
#venus #mars #sextile #astrology #astrologersofinstagram

Mercury comes home today. At 6:28 in the morning Eastern, he leaves the slow earth of Taurus and crosses into Gemini — his own sign, his domicile, the place where he is most fully himself. Mercury in Taurus has been deliberate, careful, the mind on a strict diet. Mercury in Gemini is fast. Playful. Jumping in. Happy to be home.
Gemini is mischief. Gemini is the rabbit hole and the rabbit hole inside the rabbit hole. Two streams of thought running at once, two ideas held side by side without needing to reconcile them. The mind that learns the random fact and finds the through-line three weeks later.
William Lilly called Mercury the author of subtlety. Valens said his effects go in many directions. Abu Ma'shar said Mercury takes on the nature of whatever he touches, and in Gemini what he touches is pure air.
And then fourteen hours after he arrives — bam. Mercury runs straight into Uranus. Exactly. One degree, fifteen minutes of Gemini. He has barely set his bag down. And this is his first conjunction to Uranus in the whole Uranus-in-Gemini transit. The opening shot.
Mercury here is not bracing — Mercury is delighted. Let's change. Let's go for it. I'm okay with it. Open the door. Uranus is the one who looks at the binary and says — neither, both, something else. The spark that runs through the wire and lights the bulb nobody knew was there.
This is not an explosion. This is electrification. The ideas that have been forming quietly in you — the half-thoughts, the things you have not had words for — today they get current. They get language. They get out.
So follow the curiosity. Click the link. Read the strange book. Talk to the person you would not normally talk to. Learn the useless fact. There are no useless facts under this transit. Everything is feeding the network.
Mischief is the medicine. Pay attention to the sentence that surprises you. The thing you say before you knew you knew it. That is the signature.
#astrologersofinstagram #astrology #mercury #uranus #gemini

Astrologers keep reaching for the same kind of image when they try to name what is forming in the sky right now. The Basket. The Cradle. The Bowl. Every single name is a container. And I think that is the sky telling us something important about what this moment actually is.
Here is the astrology. Pluto in Aquarius, Saturn and Neptune in Aries, Uranus in Gemini form a fire and air trine — flowing, generative, mutually supportive aspects that hold a shape rather than create friction. A container. And a container does not matter for what it is. It matters for what we pour into it.
Pluto has been in Aquarius for years doing the slow deep demolition work of who belongs and what the collective actually means. It is pouring in community — the we that is larger than any one of us. Uranus just moved into Gemini — the planet of reinvention in the sign of the mind and voice — pouring in the technology of our thinking, the ability to synthesize and build something new from the exchange. Neptune in Aries dissolves the boundary between self and other, pouring in empathy — the Buddhist sense of all one, where I stop knowing where you end and I begin. Neptune can be a fog. Used consciously in this configuration it is a gift. Saturn in Aries is pouring in structure — the forge, the alchemy, the thing that takes a dream and makes it into something you can actually touch. We have a two to three year window with Saturn in Aries to bend things to our will. And when Jupiter moves into Leo this summer — the lion enters the basket — pouring in the radiant individual self. The unique thing only you can bring. The light that shines not just for yourself but because of the whole configuration behind it.
These are outer planets — a civilizational story. But outer planets don't stay in the sky. They land in specific houses in your personal chart. Inside this big basket, each of us is a smaller bowl. Right now the bowls feel separate. But what this flowing fire and air configuration is building toward is a moment when the bowls start singing with each other. Resonating. Finding the same frequency. Not because we agree on everything. Because we are inside the same container

Part 4: Final installment of my incredibly enlightening conversation with professional astrologer and artist SJ Anderson. We spoke about getting in participation, creating community, making art and spreading joy and passion. Thank you for taking the time to listen!
This was my first live experience and I look forward to more!

Part 3 of my conversation with professional astrologer and artist SJ Anderson. We spoke about the Barbault Basket, ways to incorporate and find our passions, the fact that this is a time of action taking not rest and the importance of hope and participation in this time
This is truly unprecedented astrological times.
#astrology #barbaultbasket #astrologersofinstagram

Black Moon Lilith in your chart represents an aspect of self that has gone out of bounds. Something that was heated too high — and then cut off. Isolated. Sent away. In any area of life — sexual, intellectual, emotional. Whatever territory this placement occupies in your chart is where something in you was heated too high and then separated from the whole.
And underneath that cut-off is a source of power that has become stuck in refusal mode. Not a dead thing. A refused thing. That distinction matters.
Lilith resonates with those aspects of the feminine — in all of us, men and women — that have been rejected by a given culture. And her symbolism connects us to something that has been disavowed in our own lives. Where is your Black Moon Lilith? What sign? What house? That is where the disavowal happened. That is where something was made to feel unacceptable — too wild, too much, too uncooperative — and was sent to the wilderness of the psyche.
But Lilith is not just a wound. She is a guardian.
The Guardian of the Threshold. The one who stands at the edge between what is known and what has been exiled. And when you approach that threshold — when you stop avoiding the part of yourself that was heated too high and cut off — something extraordinary becomes available. Not just healing. Power. The specific power that only comes from the thing that was never destroyed. Only refused.
Black Moon Lilith moves through each zodiac sign over approximately nine months — making it a personal placement, not a generational one. Every person has it somewhere different. Find yours on Astro.com. Look at the sign, the house, the aspects.
Lilith in full expression is not the chaos people fear. It is the fire that was always yours. It just needed you to stop diminishing it. 🌑🔱

Part 2 of my conversation with fellow professional astrologer and artist SJ Anderson.
We speak about the Barbault configuration, contemplating what we are pouring into our baskets or bowls, the need for art, joy and hope and positive grounded approaches to fear around transits and change.

Part 1:
Professional astrologer S.J. Anderson and I sat down for a conversation involving the Barbault Basket - Pluto in Aquarius, Neptune in Aries, Saturn in Aries, Jupiter in Leo and Uranus in Gemini. We spoke about using and working with transits and our natal charts positively, and maintaining hope and the importance of art in this changing world.
I messed up (1st live people!) and now I have to put out 4 reels separately but let's have fun with this and look forward to a new piece of our conversation to be released each day til it's all out in Zeitgeist.
I cannot express my gratitude enough to SJ for taking the time to talk to me
These are longer reels -
#barbault
#astrology
#astrologersofinstagram

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A Radical Approach
To the Cosmic Promise

Astrology is an ancient tool and an extremely underutilized and powerful lens with which to find self-validation, understanding and compassion and to attune to the cosmic energies that influence whether we name it or not.

I work within a large framework of astrological lineage integrating techniques from Hellenistic, Medieval, Renaissance, Babylonian and Mythopoetic traditions. I am also versed in modern astrological understanding with a focus on cosmobiology, harmonics and Uranian Astrology. A horary, electional and medical astrologer, Catie's work is a unique integration personalized for you and your beautiful unique chart. Catie's goal is to help astrology take its rightful place in society and to help spread hope and joy through astrology