Late this morning I sank into my own sheets after seven days of holiday bed-hopping. Listening to the thrum of my heart, tummy rising like a loaf of bread, falling like a kid coming down from the thrill of swinging too high on the swingset. Sensations sprinting through my body, expanding, landing in the midst of chaos, still separate. I stared at the aspects, multifarious players lost in stars aligning, hiding, creeping, bleeding, tendering, calling. This week is not black and white, not even grey. A full rainbow of choices and transformations, foundations set in stone, gargantuan pebbles tossed into high tide, released into the ceaseless wax and wane of life herself asking us to carve a crevice in the sand and nourish with whatever water naturally seeps into the cup you create.

Sunday’s Full Moon in Gemini answers to mischief maker Mercury stationing retrograde at 2:34am Sunday morning. It is the grande finale of a long parade of lovers lost, relinquished, softened, forgotten and found. As Mercury makes his first of three passes at sober Saturn, Mars manages missiles from Uranus and Venus enters psyched Sagittarius, we’re sure to sustain some bolts from the blue. Moreover, Saturn clearing his post-shadow while approaching the galactic center and Jupiter’s trine to Neptune have us sitting somewhere between slaves to psychosis and supernatural gifts of second sight.

This week, the Four of Cups and The Star suggest we go low or go high. Go out or hide. Be wary of wishes that make you weary. Escape from escalating energies to inflate your essence with honesty over ego. Distill to be still. Simplify. Cry - sacred sounds instead of wounding words. Unload the camel pack and make a stock of self care. You don’t have to call it quits but it couldn’t kill you to press pause. Thank heavens for your homes and find fixed space to hang tight as the planets soak themselves in this swan song of fire and air before they enter a more earthly arena.