19/06/2026
I’ve caught a summer cold this week and I’m not feeling quite at my best. Nothing dramatic — but enough to slow me down and remind me that recent months have perhaps taken more energy than I sometimes admit.
So today I found myself doing something I often enjoy: looking at the current planetary transits to my own birth chart and reflecting on what they might say about this moment in life.
Not because I see the planets as causing events, but because I tend to regard astrology rather differently.
One of the ideas I enjoy in astrology is that the planets offer us a language of symbols — rather like dreams sometimes do. Jung suggested that archetypes live not only in myths and stories but in us, helping us understand our lives. For me, astrology can sometimes become a kind of cosmic theatre: ancient figures moving across the skies above and, perhaps, echoing something of the constellations within ourselves.
At present, Apollo, god of the Sun, moves through my first house — the place of identity, vitality and the experience of self. Yet he stands in tension to my natal Mars.
Mars has always seemed to me to represent something of the Warrior archetype — courage, determination, effort, our capacity to continue when life asks things of us.
But today I do not see a warrior charging into battle.
I see her slipping quietly from her horse.
She loosens the saddle and removes the bridle. Piece by piece she removes her armour and lays it beside her.
Not because she has been defeated.
Not because the journey is over.
Simply because even travellers need to rest.
Nearby stands Uranus, rising on my Ascendant — not appearing to me today as revolutionary or disruptor, but as an old magician, wandering sage, and perhaps occasionally gentle trickster.
He smiles and asks:
Must every path be travelled at full speed?
What if today is not for conquest, but for curiosity?
And watching quietly nearby sits Jupiter.
Not only king of the gods, but something of a father image — the part of us that seeks meaning, perspective, generosity and trust that life may yet hold abundance.
Moving gently through Cancer, he seems less concerned with achievement than with nourishment.
He does not urge the traveller back into battle.
Instead, he offers shade, warm food, conversation, and permission to recover.
Meanwhile, Selene, goddess of the Moon, passes through Leo. She reminds me that feelings do not always move in harmony with what we think we ought to feel.
Yet she reaches in harmony toward Chiron, the Healer, and together they seem to whisper that there may be wisdom hidden in quieter days — and that healing is not always found in action.
So the image that remains with me is this:
A warrior sitting beneath a fig tree beside a still pool.
Apollo warms her shoulders.
Her horse grazes nearby.
The armour rests quietly on the grass.
Nothing dramatic has changed.
But for a moment she allows herself simply to be.
Perhaps healing is not always becoming stronger.
Perhaps sometimes it is remembering that rest is also part of the journey.
If you work with astrology, tarot, dreams, prayer, mindfulness — or simply quiet reflection —
what story might the skies be telling within you today?
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