It’s a Sunday afternoon and I am sitting in the sweltering heat of my room. Shawn and I have recently instituted “Solo Sundays”, one day out of the week for each of us to tend to our sacred inner worlds. Or, at least, that’s what I’m doing. 🤭
I’ve been on holiday from words and stars for the past two weeks, and it has been both freeing and damning bliss. It seems ridiculous that I’d admit it, but I’ve always made it a point to be honest — I’ve been feeling burnt out from the stars. From the constant weekly updates, to the endless grind of natal chart readings, it’s felt less like a passion and more like a penance: something to remain committed to, to see through, instead of something to bask and revel in — the very joy that drew so many of you to my practice in the first place.
On my recent bestie roadtrip — which was my first holiday in more than a year, since I started pursuing my astrology career — I made a conscious effort to switch off. 🌿 I did yoga. I went on hot girl coffee walks. I swam in the ocean. I spent the most incredible sun-filled day at the sprawling botanical gardens.
And I had conversations, a seemingly unending stream of them, with my best friend. Each of them were like crumbs scattered in the dark of a forest, slowly leading me on the path back home.
When I came home, rejuvenated and centered, I was hit in the face with all the things I’d missed out on when I was gone: war. turmoil. helplessness. grief. It’s been an ongoing challenge to come back home to myself again. Perhaps you feel the same, too? Like the ground beneath your feet is ever-changing, and it’s an effort just to remain still?
Astrologically, we are currently in the thick of eclipse season. Astrologer Kira Ryberg describes the two weeks between eclipses as the “twilight zone”, and I fully agree. This past week, in particular, has had a strong Plutonian influence: digging, excavating, bringing things up into the light so that they might be understood, alchemized, healed. 🥀
I’m normally super stoked about Pluto energy. Lord of destruction, death and transformation. But given how much of that is currently playing out in our world, what started as macabre fascination has morphed into a sickening, ever-present anxiety. I don’t feel equipped to deal with what’s being asked of me, of us right now. And that just leaves one thing: to ask for help.
I found
on Substack recently, and fell in love with her writing. I finished her book today — a quirky memoir-ish take on introversion, and her misadventures at overcoming it — and it’s been slowly sowing seeds of self realization in me. Ever since I moved to this forest reserve, and gave my all to my Astrology business, I’ve been falling deeper and deeper into the kind of introversion that is unhealthy. Aside from readings, I spend most of my days alone. I don’t get out much, and when I do, it’s with Shawn. I’m not spending much money or investing in myself. My days are, for lack of better word, the same.Jess taught me that breaking out of old patterns requires effort. From talking to strangers to conquering her Everest (stand-up comedy), Jess systemically broke out of her shell by 1) consulting experts, and 2) putting herself out there. Both of these things require a butt-ton of vulnerability. Which, coincidentally, is our theme of the astrological season that’s coming up.
Scorpio season arrives on October 23rd, and this Fixed Water sign is all about going deeeeeep. 🦂 It’s ruled by Pluto (remember what I said about this being a Plutonian time?), and thus is characterized by intensity — Scorpio has no time for bullshit or small talk. Built-in lie detector. Amateur investigator. Powerful, magnetic, emotional tumult sometimes to a fault. My dad is a Scorpio, and I have a ton of this energy embedded in my chart, so trust me, I know.
One thing that no one talks about, and I feel ties beautifully into this upcoming lunar eclipse in Taurus, is vulnerability.
Scorpio is associated with 8th house energy. This is the area of life associated with intimacy, death, mental health and shared resources — generally, all things taboo. But it’s only taboo because it’s uncomfortable. Most of us weren’t taught how to have the hard conversations; how to navigate the anxiety that comes with the vulnerability of sharing a hidden part of ourselves. So, we avoid it.
But this eclipse season, and the wider collective story, is asking us to choose to do the work. To open up. To dive in, together. 💧
Yesterday, I invested in my first natal chart reading ever. The moment I clicked ‘buy’, I burst into tears. And not cute tears, either — the kind of ugly cry that makes you so uncomfortable you need to look away. So of course I did what any sane person would do:
I posted it on Instagram stories.
My whole life, I’ve struggled to trust other people. My Mercury and Mars are in the 8th house. Entrusting my secrets and thoughts with others fills me with the kind of dread that most people reserve for a root canal. But the last two years have taught me so much about letting people in. Giving them a chance. Who knows? They might just surprise you.
So I will leave you with what I wrote in my reading intake form:
I am ready to do the work. I am ready to be held. I am ready to fall in love with the stars again.
I wish the same and more for you, too. 🌹
I lay in the ocean, our primordial mother’s embrace. I watched the sun paint the world in streaks of gold and red.
I closed my eyes, and asked, “Mama, what do I need to know?”
She whispered: “Fall in love with life again.” ⌇
This life hurts. We hurt. We yearn. We get confused. We spin around in circles. We shake our fists at the sky and ask, “Why?”. But if we’re lucky, if we keep our hearts open long enough — we start to let other things in, too. Joy. Awe. Gratitude. The kind that hits you right in the chest by the sheer force of it, and you gasp out loud at how incredible it is, how wonderful, to have known and loved and experienced so much. The ever-loving beauty and terror of it all.
Eclipse season can feel rough. It can shake us up. It can close us off. It can rob us of our joy, our conviction, our zest for life. Let it change you, my friends — but don’t let it break you. Flow with it 〰️ and let me know where you end up.
I’ll be writing you again this week for the Full Moon eclipse in Taurus on Saturday — with some juicy horoscopes for all ya paid subs.
Rooting for you, always.
Gwen x
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Hi friends! We are almost at 200 of us here in this little liminal literary space. First of all, let me say thank you. It still baffles my mind that there are so many of you who would willingly sign up to read my writing each week.
Can I be real with you? I would really love to hit 30 paying subscribers by the 6-month anniversary of this Substack on Nov 5. Having consistent patronage would give me more freedom to focus on writing & teaching, my lifelong passions 🌞.
One of the perks I hope to offer to paid subs soon are live New/Full Moon circles, where we gather on Zoom for an hour to meditate, journal, and share our stories in a safe, facilitated space. Is this something that would be of interest to you?
Comment / hit reply, and let me know. (I’ll host my first one when we hit 30.)
So much love to you! And if you’ve been a patron from the start, I hope you know how deeply I appreciate you, and how grateful I am that you’re here.
Love, Gwen
〰 Not able to support me financially right now? I love you all the same. Share this post, re-stack it, or send it to a friend. It all counts. 🪽
Oh my god yes to moon circles!!!
I love what you said about Scorpio energy - it is taboo only because it is uncomfortable. Taboo is not inherent, it is constructed - a human creation. And whatever is constructed can always be destroyed too!