Shadow Horoscopes for the Solar Eclipse in Sagittarius (December 14th, 2020)

all cover art by Sarah Casey (follow her on Instagram: snakesrcool)

Shadow ‘scopes are horoscopes that hold space for the darker side of your life, and find the redemptive value in the daily awkwardness & agony.


art by Sarah Casey

Sagittarius: You awaken to find yourself on ground suspiciously moving as if to tell you that you’re about to take off on a whole adventure before you feel ready. Waking up in this agitated state, you see two transparent peacocks standing adjacent to you, facing the horizon, letting you see both the ground and the vision of what’s ahead through their glorious plumage. But their faces are serious, and the rumbles of your security system say something other than glamour and glory: As in the brute strength of an earthquake, those birds, mustering the claws of the whole world, lift the dirt and rocks of that ground up, leaving only a void, forcing you to go with them to an unknown place.

You now are those peacocks with the vision, carrying all the splendor of your emotions and the meaning you want to make with them, not messing around. You’re also that ground, for even as you relish the exploration of new horizons, Sagittarius, you still cling to frameworks of reality as security systems. The ground rising and crumbling is your creative itch, your act of reaching toward consummation with the people and inquiries that you love, and this moment asks for your willingness to extend that reach far enough that it jumbles the previous language for your quest. It’s now—rise, do, let yourself be seen through, for though safety measures are vulnerable to merciless collapse, your visions and burning passion are indestructible and open to all.


art by Sarah Casey

Capricorn: This eclipse you find yourself tucked away in the nook of a steep mountain ridge. Though you’re a climber, your journey seems to have gone into isolated retreat, as you sometimes peek outside, seeing the daredevil rock climbers with all their gear pass by as though you’re invisible in your occluded corner. At a loss for words, there’s something you’re challenged to communicate to yourself in your isolation. You see hieroglyphics on the walls of that secret hiding place and, though you don’t understand the language through which you’re being asked to deliver the message, much less how you’re supposed to do so in such a dubious shelter without contact, the gears of the wet feelings, inaudible within the action-oriented place, demand that you continue the interior adventure.

In the past, someone as ambitious as you would have preferred to climb with those other explorers now peripheral to you in your seclusion. But you now have a task: leaving behind the habitual urge to climb the mountain the same way all the time, with the gear of consensus reality. The loneliness of learning a new language of leadership and service within your echo chamber may feel agonizing, Capricorn, but the screams for contact with those other climbers, showing them another, deeper rhythm of knowing the mountains and nests of daily life, signal that you’re breaking through to an idiom that marries your ambition with a meaningful connection to heritage, contemplation and hidden areas. Scream, shout, and breathe, and be silent—the others will return to you, perhaps crawling, perhaps climbing, and though you’re lonely now, you’ll soon be equipped to lead in ecstatic ways.


art by Sarah Casey

Aquarius: This eclipse a tension emerges between two known aspects of you: your aspirational self, extending a vulnerable wish and noble ideal out into the ocean of possibilities, and the rushing demands of your ability to lead a revolutionary city. The fishing line going out into the still lake baits an ideal that’s brought to you in a foreign tongue, rendering you more vulnerable in your desire by virtue of its unfamiliarity. But it soon kindles a storm, and vicious sea monsters whirl a tempest into a complete city brought to your feet. Skyscrapers, traffic, and people in civilized attire all greet you as if you’re their leader, and you must now translate your wish over to this hustling, bustling place that you’re now meeting for the first time. There’s suspicion, as some of these folks smile but also give you the cold shoulder, whispering about you, making you wonder if they’re frenemies.

While this uncomfortable scenario makes you want to send it all back, stop the flow of communication, turn off all the devices and remain with the purity of your single, solitary wish, this eclipse has other plans for you. Can the nobility of your desire endure and guide and inspire through violent arrivals of mixed messaging? Can you forge connections between your vulnerability and the flurry of others’ claims, demands and gossip regarding you? The aspiration itself remains, and this eclipse presents an opportunity to feel it with a fresh heartbeat as it presents to you in a new tongue. When in doubt, laugh—it’s amusing babble, and your laughter cuts through other’s baggage and ill-will, helping all to see the integrity of the higher aim.


art by Sarah Casey

Pisces: A strange walk through zillions of clotheslines has you feeling penniless. Blue buckets underneath these ambiguous points of connection, or places to hang your wants out to dry, remind you of the need to fill up the larder: need more income, more worth. A passage through horseback riding gear thwacking together and grazing your scalp brings a feeling of nostalgia, but it feels hard to merge the soothing effect of the authorities of your past with the material and emotional demands of right now. Gaining a larger view, you see that these lines above your head are ropes connecting buildings, and there are many versions of you looking eagerly through the glass windows facing a life-and-death mission: these soul parts crash their heads through those building windows and walk those tightropes all the way to the other side.

What comes into your life now speaks to the risk involved with reflecting upon how far you’ve come, arriving at these edifices that have crystallized your wishes, but also how a transgression of past ‘shalt nots’ is required to break through what you’ve outgrown and walk to the other side without the safety net. Hard ground and empty buckets, this time, serve as catalysts for you to reach those other monuments to your worth. You see that the horizons point neither toward asking permission from your superiors to fill up your bucket, nor a return to the past, but to learning how your signature contribution to the world both erects and connects places just as powerfully as it’s known to dissolve artificial dualities.


art by Sarah Casey

Aries: Though you’re the master of plundering new lands, what happens when you’re transplanted onto foreign territory in an act of forced expansion, scrambling on ground that’s burning, or rife with flying ice? You scramble to make sure your armor protects you from intruders, pathogens and those trying to spot your weaknesses. But cracks in that body suit seem inevitable: in a parallel time, knights sit atop dark horses wearing centuries’ old rusted uniforms, speaking to the nobility of their mission and the demand of the times to expand beyond traditional default ways. Holes in their eyes welcome spurts of fire and iced balls—unwelcome messages from a land whose madness is unprecedented trying to meet the madness in you. Do you know the extent of this part of yourself?

You’re being tested, Aries, for your ability to first embody the expansiveness yourself into your own undiscovered territories so that you can meet the far off places where others are afraid to tread. This includes bombardment by messages from the weather, inhibiting your ability to see when you already struggle to decipher the stray cuneiform tablets all over the stormy ghost town’s cryptic border walls. Think twice about your knee-jerk reflex to fend off those signals or maintain your status quo sensory and mental capacities, for as you see alien symbols, hear a cacophony of eccentric tongues and feel extremes of heat and chill invading your every pore, know that what your inner senses really seek now is to regenerate their power. This awkward vulnerability of eyes and skin reflect your deep vision and resilience seeking to expand into this undiscovered place, helping its inhabitants, and reporting your discoveries to your loved ones back home.


art by Sarah Casey

Taurus: What are you learning about the regeneration of your erotic body, and what insight are you gaining about your responses to fear? Your master teachers of another dimension are plump, grandmotherly gatekeepers of your pleasure bringing you meringue cakes. It seems you can’t trust the sweets their wrinkly hands throw in front of your face: there’s a bitter, acidic or even poisonous underlayer to them, and these Strega Nona knowledge-holders wear frozen grins on their faces, reflective of how you yourself freeze when considering the decaying, impermanent body. Those sweets transform into gargantuan tombstones, confirming your terror on one level, but giving you a hint about the sensual value of aging on another.

Despite your instinct to run from this dream, the message seems clear: you’re invited to rehearse your own death. More precisely, you’re invited to learn, through the generous offering of those elders’ hands, the connection between the pleasures of Eros and the woes of Thanatos. The challenge, Taurus, lies in institutions that confuse this initiation by encouraging you to cling to an innocent status quo of creature comforts. Which offerings provide the gates and channels of knowledge that truly meet your inquiry into the expanded sense of eroticism within decay; which ones only obstruct the view and send you running to hide under the blanket? Perhaps the old folks holding those desserts are somewhere in between. Even so, since the lineage of the sweet death-sculptors makes itself present to you, holding your exploration, you may now embark on the inquiry into the degree to which Woe itself contains sublime delight.


art by Sarah Casey

Gemini: A preoccupation with partnership and Other becomes a doctor’s checkup, which becomes your physician taking your vital signs and soon escalates into a passionate kiss. A love affair with your primary care may not have been on the table, but it’s time for a new experience of the one-on-one connection, whether that relationship is brought to you buy symmetrical or asymmetrical power. The thrill of this encounter is that you are both yourself and the healthcare worker, and the journey of you and your lover coming-together is also the journey of you melding with your own confidence and vulnerability surrounding your relationships overall. This includes all of your most meaningful relationships, including between yourself and your subject matter, interests, passions, or secret spites.

The tables really turn when the good ol’ doc grabs a noose, moving to hang you as all of your friends look on. The line between friend and enemy becomes ever more fine, and you suddenly realize that the cultivation of your confidence and vulnerability moves in the same thickening-thinning rhythm as the line across which your compatriots stare at the rope around your neck. This eclipse shows you how growing genuine confidence, and transmuting insecurity into vulnerability, is that dance of traveling back and forth, self and other, not one or the other but squeezed together like threads of a rope locked in a kiss.


art by Sarah Casey

Cancer: Your travels and travails bring you a morass of social distancing circles, marking the correct approximation of six feet apart—eyesores in the midst of your majestic journey with a dear companion on horseback or bus-pole. The horizon, while looking exquisite, contains many signposts and boundaries that aim to stop or control your journey, and in the greater distance, a heap of tangled and discarded branches. What’s most important to you is to keep going, but there’s a part of you burnt out from charging forward on your steed and trying to follow the rules of the road, the parameters of work ethic, at the same time. But you’re pulled off your horse into that mess of branches. No more marked places on the trail; no more dictations of distance from your ambitions or your work in the world.

Leaving your companion to the other side of the road and entangling yourself in those twigs, sticks, bark, feeling their elongation and their limitation, myriad fragments or your career, of the arc of your life’s contribution to the world, make themselves clear to you. Though each stick in the woodpile shows you a different piece of your mission, in fact your body contacts each of them simultaneously. For this time period, you have the chance to leave behind the illusions given to you by coconspirators in love and work, and hold a moment unto yourself listening to the arcs of nature, and to the arc of your own lifeline to all the life around you on your terms.


art by Sarah Casey

Leo: Ever-ready to create in an open, receptive and romantic landscape, you’re poised to conceive in the heat of passion. It’s as if you’re copulating with a beloved under a thin blanket in the moonlight despite warning signs, disapproval, or ill will from others. When you’re in the heat of creation, no fields of stinging bugs could stop you even if they tried. The lover underneath you, though containing the seed possibility of resentment, envy, or itch, is someone or something you know to be a necessary portal to your expansion, and it’s important to remind yourself of this: what you love, despite its barbs and potions, despite surrounding you with swords laced in poison ivy, represents a part of you moving toward another stage of conception. Who are you, anyway?

Under that desert blanket, when you see a tarantula, followed by many other spiders at first you freak: you’d have been more comfortable with those human saboteurs of your love. But these arachnids bring you a realization that what’s being foiled is not your human love; it’s your perspective, your ability to see not only as a lion, but as a spider weaving worlds for others. Let yourself see and weave connections to what you love in a different way and touch other, unknown parts of the ground. What can seem to be devotion to a passion can actually be fixation. What can seem to be a sexually transmitted disease can really be growing more pairs of legs to touch the untrodden ground and kiss the moon discovered by the newly conceived family of births and decays.


art by Sarah Casey

Virgo: Everything in the kitchen and living room is a mess, and just when you’re concerned with picking everything up off the floor, all kinds of fumes rush through your sphere. In another dimension, all shades of smoke combine: car exhaust, gas, carbon monoxide, swirling around and creeping through the domestic environment in shades of gray, red, black, forming a haze that sounds the alarm. But what feels most foreign is not that this happens—this, to you, somehow strikes as a just climax of the chaotic, conflicting needs of every bit of energy in your house to establish a ground for adventurous intimacy, crashing into each other’s agendas. At least your orderly mind makes sense of it that way.

What feels strange are the voices bellowing from heroic heads trying to save your breath and help you clear it all up. The repairmen call speaking in gibberish; they’re trying to help, but speak a language unknown to you. It’s up to you to learn to love the messiness of the home trying to be intimate with you, constellating all that clutter, and to call back to those outcries of renewal from the firefighters, cleaners, plumbers, inspectors. The unknown idioms sounding the alarm bells through your kitchen are trying to clear the space, bringing the sources of the fumes into a condensed pillared, a dreamy haze that holds a tender, spicy homage honoring both your longing for renewed intimacy and your heady debris. You may wish to reject others’ methods, but the unfamiliar is working its magic on you, and it’s time to breathe through the breathless.


art by Sarah Casey

Libra: Venturing into a land full of fresh thought and shady, if stimulating, sights to see, communication in the trip breaks down. It’s not you, its’ the signs: they. All carry illegible shapes bordering on the absurd, meanings of “stop” and “go” blurring into one another, moose and elk warnings running their ink, stickers torn, poles sideways threatening to crash through windows. You’re beginning to wonder if someone’s duped you, sending you out only to fail to discover anything new because all the surrounds grow increasingly incomprehensible to the point of hostility. But in one flash, as if tripping on your trip, those distortions on the road signs expand, becoming solid, flying up into the air as drone helicopters. There’s a serious destination and there’s also unfailing speed that crescendoes quickly, and it’s hard to tell whether you’re observing all this from a parking place or whether you are one of those helicopters, your insides move and morph so fast. When the flying vehicles hover over a pile of crashed parts, you realize that the terminus of this whole voyage is that junk pile, and you will those helicopters within your field of awareness to crash-land into the heap.

To the junk pile you go—but it’s not what you think. You, who would habitually go to the luxury hotel only to continue to be in constant motion, taking all those travel signs for granted, now steam with all the rejected parts because it’s time to reassess, and experiment with, the way of moving through your environments. This is a marked opportunity: rather than being the air that invisibly marks the motion, the ways, the channels to and from, you’re now an animal with determination in its eyes, arising from that trash heap on its own two feet, walking out into the world and experiencing the adventure as a creature that walks, wants and proclaims itself within its surroundings.


art by Sarah Casey

Scorpio: The agony of self-worth and of who determines your worth, in word and number, concretizes in sticky foreign currency all over your body, as you sit in a stark room—bathroom? interrogation room? —while mopping up all the residue of others’ prejudices, all the ill-timed spills that left this workplace and this living space in a sorry state. Your labor, value and desperate expressions of opinion lack a sympathetic ear or a just compensation, but you sound the battle cry of your gold and speak in icy tones into an intercom anyway. Cold water from the mop bucket and ice water from the shower heads splash onto you as cruel payback—you offer your perspective and others have shrunk from it, calling it too heavy, too intense.

If they’re seeking revenge by giving you torture showers, it won’t work, Scorpio: you of all people know best that external expressions of pleasure, pain and worth don’t last, and so you’ll respond to that frigid deluge by wrapping yourself in a blanket of international bills. You know that even if the receptacle of your worth, your means of exchange, makes itself unavailable to you or adopts a standard that’s unknown to you right now, your supreme power resides in the knowledge of your resilience, what’s unchanging through all the mutating currencies. Those trying to silence you and subjugate all the fun of your volatility only strengthen your reserves, your ability to wear the unknown, arbitrary standards of value as a terrifying blanket, serving as an emblem of your ferocity long after monetary standards have sounded their last death gasp.


Support the guest artist who provided cover art for this week’s Shadow ‘Scopes! Follow Sarah Casey’s work at snakesrcool on Instagram.

Shadow Horoscopes for the Lunar Eclipse in Gemini (November 30th, 2020)

Shadow ‘scopes are horoscopes that hold space for the darker side of your life, and find the redemptive value in the daily awkwardness & agony.


Hirohiko Araki, sketch from “Jojo’s Bizarre Words”

Aries: Urgent impulses on a rampage to deliver messages bring you into a knife fight this lunar eclipse. The daggers carry memos on them of aggressive words rooted in pent-up thoughts and feelings about your brothers. There’s a thought that through this swirling, spiraling motion of all the blades flying through the air, you’ll all reach a conclusion and cut open a new territory, revealed through your knife’s sharpness, into an emotional climax that paves the way for a new way of talking to each other.

The moon advises you to not second-guess yourself, but be aware: when messages inscribed on those shiny blades are poisonous, it’s important to remember that when you’re the thrower, the true poison lives in any words of malice embedded in those memos, and its toxicity will rub off first on your own psyche. You’re the lord of discovering what was previously undiscovered, and it’s worth considering that throwing mean words with the motion of your new creative instinct will contaminate the environment of the trails you are blazing. Instead, let the beauty of your urgency and the edge of competition cut through perceived limitations.


Hirohiko Araki

Taurus: You find yourself overlooking a pasture full of moldy old couches trapping cows who are only trying to settle into their habitat. In this scenario, you are both the voyeur-farmer looking out the window wanting to see greener pastures and the cows themselves trapped by discarded couches piled up on top of each other. One part of you relishes the vision of discarding your prized possessions; another part of you clings to them so tightly that it’s hard to move anywhere or nourish yourself, overcrowded by them. While a part of you wants to be in the here and now and another equally wants to visualize a grass-is-greener scenario, taking either of these routes requires being reminded of all your junk first.

Those sofas grow a fungus that rots their material. What was once a velvety luxury on your skin, tempting you toward repose, now calls for a reevaluation of the messages you’re sending yourself and your fellow cows about how you handle possessions. Is there a way to relate differently with the old material, and is there a way to relate differently with the freedom to imagine the new? When you realize that possessions exist to be the foundation and the adornment of your nourishment, rather than to bottleneck acts of self-care, you’re free to unbind yourself from the discarded furniture, relocating and repurposing it as what carried the memories that fed your soul in the past, as you yourself now breathe fresh air in an open field.


Hirohiko Araki

Gemini: This lunar eclipse you’re looking both ways crossing a highway with cars and buses zooming and crashing into each other in every direction. You’re trying to cross the street so you can assume your role as the spokesperson for a subject you hold dear to your identity in an awkward setting—the subject itself must be articulated in the middle of turbulent motion. The trouble is crossing the street seems impossible when all the vehicles are driven by extraterrestrials: the terrain, usually familiar on the terrestrial ground in a way even you take for granted, transforms its scope and the movement it can handle, when beings with foreign demands drive on top of it.

What are the ideas, bits of information and nanothoughts in your mind doing? There’s something you hold precious and seek the freedom to stand for & deliver, but your monkey mind is giving birth to a language that’s shifting moment by moment. When you assume the podium at the rest stop, and your audience of those poised to hear your enthusiastic opinions on your subject matter sit listening, weary from the journey, rest assured that the sound waves of all those drivers from another planet will only stain your expression of your freedom if you let it all be perceived as incomprehensible motion. What you’re up to, both within yourself and in your external world, is creating a sphere that accommodates the sturdy ground and the dizzying motion—the ground’s view of sturdiness itself transformed into an ability to be dizzy within your zealous pursuits.


Hirohiko Araki, “Gold Experience Strikes Back”

Cancer: Curled up into a ball on an isolated bed, sucking your thumb and rocking back and forth, there’s a part of you finding yourself torn about not saying the right thing. It may be your long lost sister, or fourth great grandmother, institutionalized with a single lightbulb hanging over their head, in pajamas and tears. Their/your life from the real outside world gathers into a saltwater bubble as you reckon with all its agonizing components—bitterness, perceived failures to protect, or perceived shortcomings in forging a nurturing nest—your most raw and vulnerable self gushing forth before you’re ready to walk on to land where you set up new homes.

In the midst of your anguish, a book carrying many stories appears to you: a folk pamphlet, or a holy book that had been buried under a grandparent’s bails of hay for hundreds of years. It contains balms for remorse and the pain inflicted by demons, antidotes you can easily apply in the spirit of brushing your teeth. The messages contained therein, both verbal and nonverbal, form a bridge between your past hurts and your sense of possibility: the most profound shelters may not be the ones you had built, or the alienating one in which you currently find yourself, but in the primal urges of your predecessors to pass their warmth on to you and in your unique interpretation of how you will rejuvenate their insulating barns and straw for your loved ones. Your grief and hope are held equally by the invisibles in their echoes of care.


Hirohiko Araki, “How Many People?”

Leo: A revolution happens, or at least a mirage of one, and this Lunar Eclipse you stand apart in a crowd proclaiming victory under a radical sun, all the members of your party dousing themselves in pure alcohol. There’s a surge of Dionysian frenzy to this expression of solidarity: it’s as if every member of the movement arrives at the same place, yearning for the limelight that’s limited to a pebble on a suburban ground. What at first appear as elbow rubs and intimate thuds of camaraderie turn out to be each person desperately wrestling to be the last one standing on that lone rock, each for themselves pushing & shoving with a voracious appetite for the status of the charismatic leader.

Where are you in this dynamic? In one moment, the supreme ruler; in the next, pushing to assert your place; in yet another, drunk on the pride this feeling of group belonging gives you. But you shake yourself awake: you’re not one who wants to “belong,” you long to lead and to gift others with the radiant expression of your unique creative voice. In the intoxication of the group, which wears the colors of tragedy, connecting you all with the oceanic swallowing of the individual, there is to be found, if you catch it, the source of that vital pulse of your own sovereign voice, felt as a roar surfing along the wave before any wipeout or blackout. The pushes for attention and the oblivion into the herd, for you, aren’t the point right now—it’s catching that hydrated uniqueness carefully among the dangers of an orgiastic tempest.


Hirohiko Araki, “Flash Flood Warning”

Virgo: Have you ever thought about your parents as another species? This Lunar Eclipse, a reckoning regarding your mother’s work in this human world arrives to you, as she walks off into a sunset. “My mother is a dinosaur,” echoes as a relevant reflection in the air as you recognize your roots and traditions as belonging to a type of organism utterly distinct from you. Or, perhaps, the roots from which you have grown into a full being feel fossilized to you, and you’re now ready to cast the imposing guardian-figure as a T-Rex, letting their habituated expressions of criticism and affection both walk into the distance never to return to you speaking the language you knew together.

It’s natural to feel dislocated, to feel that there’s a part of ourselves that’s anti human, or unhuman, and perhaps an even more everyday feeling is that the parents belong to a soul-tribe vastly different from what you’re here to do. Since you love to integrate and interweave patterns, Virgo, these thoughts sometimes feel unwelcome to you. But this is an opportunity to honor traditions passed down and the work you’ve done as a leader, public servant or parent in another way: eventually, what’s always comforted or tortured us, too, must learn a new language, which means it must first be released, walking off a cliff at sunset. It also means those who comforted and tortured you possessed origins outside of the way you, by necessity, perceived them at the time. Know that you are graced by a connection to a deep past whose form looks completely Other. Use that awareness to learn your own language of honoring and loving.


Hirohiko Araki

Libra: If you were to pinpoint and draw out the most vital sources of your expansion and purpose, you may intellectually acknowledge the terrifying, unpredictable creatures as playing a role, but letting them out to roam around is another matter. On this Lunar Eclipse there’s an animal that speaks many languages inside of a golden cage at an abandoned circus. You may have thought you were coming to observe many specimens from a distance, and in your carefully thought out ethical framework you may feel betrayed that the conventional circus parameters have abandoned you, left you alone with this grizzly ape. But the ‘it’ asks to be released from its cage, a sadistic prison that makes its polyglot self froth at the mouth, its gargantuan knowledge spewing forth in an incoherent spittle of foam. Much to your own surprise, you open the cage and leave the rest to the unknown.

Just what are these tongues spoken by that furry friend-foe? The many biological imprints within you each demand a voice, and while it’s tempting to merely think about this and observe from afar, there’s an instinct in your pounding heart that knows this One animal contains the key to the Many. Your attraction to unleashing it knows that out of this instinctual center flow the articulation of many idioms previously forgotten. The volition of your reason can partner with the situation here, thinking that the choice is its own, saying, “unleash the polyglot beast so that I, too, can have a pet fetish.” The inroads and whirling hoops between reason and unreason depend first on busting open those cages, however beautiful they may appear.


Hirohiko Araki, “Crazy Diamond is Unbreakable”

Scorpio: Thrown onto the shore choking on storm-tossed water, you feel this Lunar Eclipse like you’re carrying two of you, and you can’t tell if you’ve just had dark sex that’s washed you up among all of that seaweed, or if it’s this other You on your back that’s made love to the fears within your own heart. What sorts of lovemaking make you feel elementally merged in one moment and drowning in the next? Alternating with the sense of yourself-as-submerged-lover is a keen ability to reflect on the experience, to discriminate between the myriad lovers and haters present in your life the moment you can breathe again. There’s a double you, a corpse and grinning skeleton, that seems to relish your heart in all of its want and terror. It talks of what has died, what is to die, and what has appeared as a phantasm of “debt.”

Anyone else would be running to mommy screaming when this double dead-alive soul agent becomes so starkly real, but that’s what this Lunar Eclipse is for in your case, Scorpio: to eye the fragments of your erotic and deadly experience for who and what they are. The key is not taking the gossip about your scandals, liaisons, betrayals and especially, debts, too literally or seriously. Though it’s wise to keep the discerning guard up, this skeleton has a sense of humor, and part of the whole joke lies in the fact that “debt” is only a lame cousin of death. Rather than owing anything, you ask these solicitors to identify themselves, and upon knowing them with clarified expectations, everything that each party genuinely entered the encounter for will be surrendered.


Hirohiko Araki

Sagittarius: At the marriage altar, you and your partner wear sunny smiles, and a murder of crows gathers above your heads. The news they deliver speaks not of evil, but of the ways you and your beloved are unshackling your own freedom from the serious white-hairs in the crowd gazing with sunken eyes at the ceremony. Those critical birds bring your awareness to a realm above the apparent soul concerns of both you and your beloved—whether that beloved takes the form of a partner, an inner love flame or an impassioned relationship with a field of inquiry. They direct you, through their chilling caws, toward your genuine orientation: the quest of the blazing light of the erotic seeker’s mind.

The throng of older folks looking on, the crows warn, may only appear to hold the keys to the knowledge of love and freedom that you seek. You find many of those sitting suits respectable in their ability to guard the gates of enlightened exploration covering a wide ground. What’s important today, in this passionate meditation on freedom and erotic union, is your awareness of the choice to point your gaze toward that promising orb above the arches even if—and especially because—there’s no ready-made language for that part of the quest. The old gatekeepers of tradition in the audience may talk to you about autonomy and partnered union, but what’s yours to articulate must be found looking not only at the way others have articulated the mysteries of self & other through the ages, but into the open sky of private soaring and utterly naked ‘two-as-one’.


Hirohiko Araki

Capricorn: Thermometers slide under the tongues of your brethren, taking the temperature of the inner urges to deliver the messages that demand communication. You isolate yourself in walls of junk food fixing your gaze on their nutrition facts labels, sitting on an airy bag of chips. In some moments you’re watching all the action from afar; in others, you’re right up close and checking everyone for fever. Every being around you wears labels of excess sodium, fat, or sugar, and all the chemicals drench the mop you splash on the floor. What is real and good, and how do you know? What is the bundle of real and good tasks worth pursuing and can you hang on to the units of information that are indications of this goodness as a secure foundation on which to perform your acts of service?

It seems important to you this Lunar Eclipse to quantify the toxicity or health of what’s around you and you’re torn between observing those evaluations from your prime minister’s seat, running around taking everyone’s temperature, and being the bedridden patient yourself. When in doubt, insulation and isolation seem to pave the way to the true service: the patient attention to your mind revealing itself to itself. Underneath the prejudicial labels of more of this, less of that, which already depends upon measurement instruments and standards of the past, you’re asked to take a trip back to the evaluative tools of the even deeper roots, which is inquiring how you can find inner silence and respite within all the panic, vulnerable physicality and cleanup. Your ability to go to ground zero and let your mind speak from the altar of silence will illuminate a genuine code for you to discern the integrity of your health, environment and its troublemaking potions.


Aquarius: You find yourself frantically flying toward all the usual mechanisms to emotionally withdraw, having fun and embracing humanity, only to re-find yourself kissing a snarling monster over flames. You thought it would all be the pleasant kind of fire, the one over which you possess some control, but in fact, you’re face to face with that growling boar showing you the full-fledged immersion into emotion. The speech of someone in the trenches of anger and vulnerability sounds different from the polite utterances of a professor of feelings making pronouncements from an ivory tower. Here, Aquarius, you’re sweating and delivering primal grunts, screams, cries, with urges to kiss, hump, and beg while you’re surrounded by flames.

It feels awkward because you had planned it to all carry on in the spirit of a festive celebration, and now everything is ablaze with fire and condemnatory lingo. But it’s a necessary passage for you to come down from the tower of space and burn yourself every now and then, charging fully into the heat of the passions that take you on an adventure away from your ability to fly high and stay above it all. What’s in it for you, in this case, is learning a new language of feeling consumed by those passions, and taking into your family of lovers not only what you consider ‘human’, but also what you consider vicious and bestial.


Hirohiko Araki, “San Diego Beach- September 23, 1890- 2 Days to Start, Part 3”

Pisces: This lunar eclipse brings you the ultimate workout—the strife of lifting a heavy antique table with a circle of your ancestors sitting on top. You carry the weight of all the parental and multigenerational voices on your shoulders, hearing all of their warnings and comforting memories and cautionary tales above your ears, and wonder when you’ll be able to release your psychic strain and drop them. There’s a paradox at work here, Pisces: on one level, the ultimate weight falls upon you. On another level, you’re so adaptable and permeable right now that all appearances of a burden will dissolve instantly if you allow them to.

Moving from light to heavy is something you’re used to as a being with one foot in the trans personal, etheric worlds and the other in the ultra-materialistic world of form. This lunar eclipse asks you to merge the light, weightless world in your presentation of your glorious predecessors to it, with the dense ground, forest, rock, brick and ambition. Can you lift your lineage up to the sky on that heavy table while standing on one leg, feeling the breeze move over you, witnessing the whole process, knowing in your honoring of those who came before that all the warnings and curses too are stirred as nutrients into the soup cauldron between heaven and earth, boiling a warm & nourishing meal?

World Shadow Horoscope, November 29th, 2020

November 29th, as queasy schoolchildren eating too much candy and overstuffed with reading assignments, we try to escape the “shoulds” by running behind the schoolhouse into the enchanted barn of curiosity. Not everything is as it seems in there either, though—just as our appetite for goodies was insatiable before a bellyache, the hunger for knowledge of the secrets to our daily living gives us an existential ache. Though the air smells of the most promising library books, the barn is full of little doll faces of headmasters & strict teachers staring into our eyes. In fact, we’ve made these dolls, it seems: at first, we mocked and prank-called those gatekeepers who told us the way the quest for knowledge and life purpose “should” happen, then we sentimentalized & honored them, and now we find ourselves questioning yet again.

An earthquake suddenly shatters all those dolls to pieces. Centuries-old occult rebels in wigs carrying parchment invite us to drink with them in a den, and carrying a sack of the broken doll faces, we’re shown the first step in breaking ties with a vocabulary that dogmatically constricts the way we conceive of life purpose. Drinking moonshine, holding a Constitution, dancing rudely on the table, these lodgers say, “shred it!”—the document, the words of your life story that must be rethought, regenerated, rewritten in a new language.

Past the table of rowdy constitution-shredders, we see fire in a mirror reflecting the true nature of our minds back to us, asking for all those smashed pieces of old educators, and your own face in a wrinkly caricature, too, to be thrown into that flame. “Your fears, gossip and mockery—distorted echoes of curiosity—become burned in the awareness of your burning inner purpose.”

World Shadow Horoscope, November 28th, 2020

November 28th, change knocks at the door and fertilizes the ground as comfort freaks cling tightly to pillows. We’re sobbing couch potatoes and busts of household masters insisting that our creaturely attachments stay intact through the ruptures, and that the status quo over which we coo holds its place. But eco-demands to face the wanted and the unwanted blow in the wind and thorny vines knock against our windows. House contractors, just gone blind, set up renovation sites on wastelands full of noxious weeds already killing all the crops and livestock.

The imagination, wondering what’s redemptive about this state of affairs, this chokehold of change amidst overgrown weeds, puts bouncy sandals on our feet: even if we begin on hot coals, we can go anywhere if we but imagine. Dogs leap out of the under-earth, recently revealed after those blind contractors uprooted the foundations, teaching us how to soar back and forth from the hollows that are often invisible. Since the imagination itself has weeds, and we’re asked to start from the bottom, we now must imagine anew. Once we’re able to see what gates have opened from the shifting foundation, we’re able to see and go where we choose. And now that the ground itself has opened up, all of its brambles, wild roses, dandelions and stinky plants become the guides to our rejuvenated fertility.

Neptune Stations Direct: The Week of 11/23-11/29/2020

This week is one long crescendo toward a Lunar Eclipse in Gemini on November 30th. The symphony of the week’s transits include, most notably, Neptune stationing direct and Venus’ opposition to Uranus. The cosmic forces pull the curtain back to how our innermost longings and values have transformed, and how this sea change relates to our imagination. Neptune contains many gods and goddesses, including Dionysus, Tiamat, the Christ figure, and Poseidon. Each of these involve fragmentation, a blurring of boundaries, overwhelm by oceanic forces and the thought of the heart. 

On June 23rd, when Neptune stationed retrograde, we faced a Solar Eclipse in Cancer. This time, Neptune stations direct promptly before the *lunar* eclipse in Gemini. Whereas solar eclipses are about influxes of energy, lunar eclipses are about giving birth and releasing energy. This means that whatever has gestated in the imagination over the last five months, in a new form, will soon give birth to something meaningful and climax in a more significant way—or, it might all be exposed as a mirage. 

The notion of revelation, of pulling the curtain back, is a timeless metaphor that calls to mind an old story about a king. Skeptical about the existence of any realm other than the literal, material plane, the king asks a holy man in the woods if he could see a glimpse of Paradise. The sage, who is dying, tells the king that if he knocks on his gravestone in the hours after death, his wish will be granted—but, at the same time, he warns the king to be careful what he wishes for, saying that it’s best to wait to see paradise until his time has come. The king ignores the warning and knocks on the grave as instructed. When the ground opens and the king tumbles underground, the dead sage pulls a curtain back to reveal…and the story does not say precisely *what* is shown to the king, but seemingly for an instant, he sees his glimpse of paradise. The consequences are dire, though: he reemerges from underground seven hundred years later, dethroned, with nobody knowing his identity. 

Let’s make the story relevant to the current astrological and personal moment: how can we engage in a creative relationship with our imagination instead of one ignoring warnings or split off from its power? How can we apply imagination in our lives and what have we learned about it since June 23rd? How does the frenzied consumption of coffee, wine, love & attention amplify our insight or exacerbate the foggy messes, or both? Time will tell. Time will expose the extent to which we’re nourished by the garden of romantic imagination and the extent to which the weeds of that same garden take up all the sunlight, nutrients and space. 

One way those weeds show their faces is through the extremes of euphoria and depression that the yearning for paradise and source creates. Those extremes become perceived as weeds in the garden when they put the analytical brain sound the alarm bells, making us think that we are conflicted or ill, when sometimes, what are labeled ‘internal conflicts’ are themselves illusions of a mind trying to analyze and separate living reality into manageable fragments. 

Another way weeds show their faces is as deception, felt on both private and public levels. Whatever deception has been in the works since mid June (or longer) will either be exposed for what it is or be allowed to run amok in a deluge. The opposition of Venus (values) and Uranus (the renegade) pushes us into embracing change rooted in the raw material that’s been gestating in the imagination these past several months. These planets oppose each other in Taurus and Scorpio, an axis that’s about transformed desire and constructive power. When the vitality that regenerates desires is ignored and power remains secretly corrupt, Venus-Uranus will encourage this lack of integrity to destroy itself with its own deceit. In other cases, it festers and spreads, creating mirages upon mirages. 

We are participants in this and the choice is ours: how can we relate beautifully and wildly innovate the expression of our transformed desires? How can the power that’s destructive expose itself as counterproductive to the integrity of the current forms that our values take? 

And it’s important to remember that on subtler levels, these epiphanies don’t unfold in an either/or fashion, but as volatile mixtures of light and dark and rainbow.

World Shadow Horoscope, November 26th, 2020

November 26th- An oily ground populated with smoldering soldiers and lovers brings to our awareness the passions trying to unblock themselves. Secret agents scan and sniff; those amorous fighters breathe deep, ready to go to battle with their limitations. A cavern opens to the rogue exploration of secret longings leading to low-rumbling invasions of boundaries. We probe, pry and pivot, all in the name of moving past the barriers of outmoded convention and knee-jerk dread.

Behind the battlefield, a live scarecrow stands tall in the woods, and bats come and go, feasting upon his flesh. We are the surge of animality in those bats and the scarecrow itself, too, guarding what’s necessary to preserve in order for our limits to be transcended, offering our eyes for dinner, scrapping the old way of seeing. The bats remind us how the human must give its talent to the animal world and not hoard it. This includes honoring and offering, in a spirit of creative surrender, to the passions of the animal realms uninterested in human convenience: anger, lust, regression, terrified nighttime, irrepressible need. Our expansive offerings make us guardians of the feast, at peace with the inherent unrest that gives existence its pulse.

-World Shadow Horoscope, November 26th, 2020

World Shadow Horoscope, November 25th, 2020

November 25th- Divine wrath rushes in, creating tension and release within our contorted human forms. Sores from lip-biting, aches and agonies of the chest, growls of boundary-asserting, territorial rage, fill and empty large circles into which we leap. Our implosive and explosive twists of limb are seen from the go-getters above who, unattached to their own faces, jump out of airplanes and charge their heads through high-story glass windows.

There’s little desire to leave the ground altogether, but there’s a satellite push toward flight. Digging a circle in the earth, a host of fireflies greets us, entering our being through the throat. In the buzzes and tingles and surges of firelight, the impulse to spiral up among the stars crafts itself within us, enacting our values from another view, the anger but the seed of this inner action. The ground is nice to walk and sit on, but it can be great to leave it every now and then, too. Whoosh!

-World Shadow Horoscope, November 25th, 2020

World Shadow Horoscope, November 24th, 2020

November 24th- An intersection of desert expanse and urban gossip creates shades of impulsive adventure. Moral philosophers on one side, drunk and resigned seeing stars in a bar, escape into neon lights surrendering to the indulgence of the daredevil desires of adolescence. “Tumble down the steepest staircase, railing, mountain trail,” the voices seem to say. “Bruise and break yourself for the rush of the battle scars.” Shock value makes the hormones feel true to their discoveries. On the other side of that desire-factory, a stampede ravages dry land after sundown.

When looking out from those strobes and dance lights, up from the numbing glasses, it’s possible to sit out with the warthogs perching on the stone wall and snorting, chuckling at the procession of obsessive wants. Impulses insist on running altogether; the antelopes and rhinos possessed, and the frustrated teens and jackasses, too, breathless, groping for climaxes. Rolling over in laughter, our pig-selves make it clear that to follow those yearnings we must preserve their integrity, which is about witnessing: “look and observe as all of the desires feel how it feels to charge forward. And don’t take it all so seriously!” the warthogs chortle, bellies up to meet the underbelly’s belch of the morning sun.

-World Shadow Horoscope, November 24th, 2020

The Week of 11/23/2020

This upcoming week* is partly about:

-expanding our ability to dissolve the appeal of an illusion by holding all of our ‘selves’ in a warm embrace

-building the necessary medicine to heal any shock of discovering what no longer has a place in our lives

-building the necessary imagination through which the discovery of new values or desires can turn into living realities

-building the tolerance and diversity of perspectives necessary for daily living in society to coexist with the deep, irrational, uncompromising needs of the unconscious

-building the faith that behind primal fears of nonexistence lies another existence of something that hasn’t yet been discovered

-expanding our imaginative responses to our dark moods and secret selves

-expanding our mental agility to see our journey from different vantage points and compassionately acknowledge how far we’ve come

-expanding our ability to ground the imagination of how our values have been rejuvenated, situating our *applied imagination* between the higher conscious upper world and the dark instinctual underworld

*Waxing moons, every month, are about building and expanding certain priorities. The current waxing moon cycle represents the growth of what was planted during last weekend’s new moon in scorpio. Themes of regeneration, death and resurrection, primal desires and instinctual forces seed the quality of what we are building & expanding upon from now until next weekend.

World Shadow Horoscope, November 22nd, 2020

November 22nd has us caught between the anticipation of an oncoming deluge and a stagnant marsh. The distant foreboding rumbles of the flood merge with the psychedelically colored water in the quiet swamp. Vapors of addiction, a foggy search for counterparts who inspire possibility and bad medicine form spilled-milk-shaped nixies down there in the substratum.

An owl overlooking our dissolution of self points the way toward an underneath, where we crawl alongside the slugs and worms in the trenches. Deep under the roots, there’s a silent room smelling of damp cellar. In its quiet isolation seeming at first unbearable, we hug our ears to the dirt wall, hearing choirs cheering on our convergence of the underground and upper ground. Dirt sighs & surrenders; light of a sunkissed mountaintop shines into the cave, kissing our faces—today, alone yet guided to light, a most precious meaning of “after dark.”

-World Shadow Horoscope, November 22nd, 2020