Holy Rage & Sacred Retreats
An Astrological Field Manual for Loving and Fighting Through Summer 2025
"We must have the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless furnace of this world." — Jack Gilbert
Remember a few years ago? When the world shut down and for one hot, terrifying second we all thought, "This is it. This is the great reset, our chance to build something new"?
Well, take a good fucking look around. Do you like what we built?
Or are we finally ready to admit that the house is a wreck? The basement isn’t just damp; it’s flooded with the toxic waste of political lies and corporate greed. The walls aren't just cracked; they’re being devoured by the black mould of systemic hate, resurrected from the darkest corners of history and served up daily on our doomscrolls.
The astrology of this summer is that final, glaring inspection notice. It’s the moment we stop pretending the mould is just a smudge on the wallpaper. It’s the time to dust off our knees, stare the decay right in the face, and figure out what tools we have left.
And the work isn’t happening on Mars. It's not happening in the doomsday bunkers the tech billionaires are building with our stolen data.
The work is here. On this messy, beautiful, heartbreaking planet where we still live, and where you and I deserve a life of safety, dignity, and maybe even a little fucking joy.
The choice is the same one that writer Arundhati Roy presented to us then. She called that moment a portal, and we are standing in its gateway once again:
"Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal, a gateway between one world and the next. We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it."
PROLOGUE: The Stars Don't Give a Fuck About Your Comfort Zone
You want to know what time it is? Look around. The billionaires are in a space race to escape the planet they torched, the far-right is throwing a global pity party and calling it a political movement, and our phones are glowing with curated atrocities served up between ads for shit we don't need. If you're not angry, you're not paying attention. If your heart isn't breaking on a daily basis, you might need to check if it's still there.
And let me be clear: astrology that ignores this is spiritual malpractice. It's cosmic gaslighting. To be a person is to be political. To be a person, who wants to keep living in this world of rules & regulations imposed by clowns dubiously elected to make decisions about our freedoms, our bodies & the sheer chances on survival of humans as species - to simply desire TO BE requires making choices, to take sides, to take actions.
To be personal is political, the body is a battlefield, and the planets, this summer, are holding a goddamn intervention. They aren't offering an escape hatch to some blissed-out, love-and-light fantasy. They are giving us a blueprint for psychic survival. A field manual for how to stay soft and human in a world trying to make us hard and cruel.
This is the summer of the rage that’s holy and little pockets of joy one can disappear in to lick their wounds before the next round of fighting for what’s really important in life.
A season dedicated to the revolutionary act of building our own culture, our own joy, and our own safe havens in the ruins of a collapsing empire.
As the great Audre Lorde said, "The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house."
So, we're not renovating their house. We're building our own, right in their fucking backyard. It’s got a community garden, a bookshelf of banned books, a sound system playing punk rock (the lead singer might even be - gasp - trans! Careful she’s coming for your public bathrooms!), and the door is open to anyone with a kind heart and a willingness to fight.
ACT I: The Great Emotional Homecoming Gets Immediately Gentrified (JUNE)
The cosmic drama kicks off with a surge of profound, bleeding-heart hope. On June 9th, Jupiter, the planet of MORE-MORE-MORE, cannonballs into the tender, nurturing waters of Cancer. We all feel it. A collective, guttural sob of longing for home. For safety. For a hug from our grandma. For the radical notion that we all deserve to be cared for. This is the astrology of mutual aid, of chosen family, of wanting to feed everyone soup.
Guess what? The remaining few still alive and fighting for the next breath in Gaza, that US president salivates over as a prime real estate development platform, experience the same longing. Everyone, who’s being snatched from the nurseries, the churches, the fucking home improvement retail stores around the great country of America, longed for the same.
These gays are not trying to murder you, Tanya. These drag queens are not trying to recruit your child and brainwash them into undergoing a sex change surgery scheduled for right after their recess.
And that whole ‘we kindly don’t round them up against the wall to shoot anymore, but they don’t deserve the same rights as us’ sentiment? That garbage got resurrected from the most obscure, cancerous incel online cesspits—you know, the ones frequented by school massacre organizers. And with horrifying ease, it was adopted by mainstream entertainment and social media, all under the guise of FREE. FUCKING. SPEECH.
Yeah, that shit cannot sit with us. Not if we want to call ourselves human.
But this is 2025. The landlord shows up on move-in day. Almost immediately, Jupiter gets mugged by reality. On June 15th, it squares off with crusty old Saturn in Aries. This is your deep need for a safe community space being denied a permit by the city council because they'd rather approve another high-rise for soulless tech bros. It’s the feeling of wanting to rest but having to work three jobs to afford the rent.
As philosopher Mark Fisher noted, we’re living in a state of "capitalist realism," the pervasive sense that there is no alternative. This transit is here to rub our faces in it.
Then, on June 18th, Jupiter gets lost in the fog of a square to Neptune in Aries. This is the moment you realize the charismatic activist you admired is actually a grifter, or the "intentional community" you joined has some seriously culty vibes. It's the heartbreaking disillusionment when our ideals slam into the wall of human fallibility.
ACT II: Hacking the Brain Rot (JULY & AUGUST)
On July 7th, the real weirding begins. Uranus, the planet of punk rock, revolution, and alien downloads, plugs into Gemini. For the next seven years, our entire information ecosystem gets a shock to the system. On one hand, this is the apotheosis of brain rot: AI-generated propaganda, algorithm-fueled hate campaigns, the digital panopticon.
On the other, it's the birth of the citizen journalist, the decentralized network, the viral meme that reveals a hidden truth. As William S. Burroughs wrote, "Image is a virus." This is our chance to spread a new one: the virus of radical empathy.
My most liked post here on Substack has nothing to do with tarot or astrology. It’s actually just a comment under someone else’s post:
Seeing so many hearts resonate with this simple message? It’s a flicker of light in the goddamn void. It gives hope. But the irony is not lost on me: it still represents a microsecond pause in someone’s endless doomscroll on social media.
The real, chaotic hope comes from the Uranus in Gemini transit. This isn't about getting more "likes." This is the celestial equivalent of a system-wide crash. It’s the volatile, inevitable energy that shorts out the whole damn server farm, forcing us to find new, decentralized, punk-rock ways to share information when the main grid fails.
Maybe a massive solar flare finally fries the internet, and we're all forced to remember what a book smells like. A scary prospect for some, maybe. But tell me how a world where we study books instead of banning them doesn't inevitably lead to a more intelligent, more informed, and more compassionate human society. I'll wait.
In the middle of this info-war, Mercury, the planet of information itself, goes retrograde in Leo (July 17 – Aug 11). This is a full-blown crisis of narrative. The egos of world leaders will be fragile and their public statements even more nonsensical than usual. Although immigrants eating pets, windmills killing whales & suggesting drinking bleach to kill Corona virus might be hard to top.
For us, it’s a moment to ask: "Whose story am I performing?" The Mercury cazimi on July 31st is a flash of brilliant clarity, a moment to understand and reclaim your own unique, creative voice.
As if that wasn't enough, Mars is on its own journey of cosmic frustration. But in the midst of the struggle, on August 11th, Venus conjoins Jupiter in Cancer. This is a day of obscene, radical, life-affirming love.
It's making out with your partner in the kitchen while the world burns. It's a potluck with your queer chosen family that feels more like church than church ever did. It’s a reminder from the cosmos that our capacity for pleasure and care is not a weakness; it is our most potent political weapon.
ACT III: The Great Cosmic Detox (SEPTEMBER)
As summer wanes, the universe hands us the bill and a bottle of spiritual Pepto-Bismol. On September 1st, Saturn, the lord of karma, slips back into the oceanic grief of Pisces. It’s time to deal with the unresolved sorrows, the collective denial we’ve been swimming in. This is the ecological reckoning. The spiritual detox.
Then, the main events: a pair of reality-altering eclipses. The Total Lunar Eclipse in Pisces on September 7th is the great, snotty, ugly cry of release. The dam breaks. We are letting go of a collective dream that has died. It will be painful, but it is a cleansing.
It’s followed by a Solar Eclipse in Virgo on September 21st, which is our chance to plant seeds for a new, more practical, more helpful way of life. It’s about asking, "Okay, the fantasy is dead. What small, useful thing can I do today to make things better?"
The summer's final boss battle arrives on September 24th, with a Mars-Pluto square. This is a raw, primal confrontation with power. It's the people in the streets versus the shadowy figures in the boardroom.
It's your own holy rage meeting the immovable object of systemic oppression. Something has to break. Let it be them.
This summer is an invitation to become a warrior-monk, a joyful nihilist, a pragmatic dreamer. The world is on fire, yes. But that just means we have the perfect light to find each other in the dark.
Below you’ll find horoscopes for every zodiac sign. But the rest of this post is reserved for all the kind folks who treated me to a coffee by subscribing.
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Grab my hand as we run blindly into the sudden, volatile, yet exhilarating astrological flash storm of 2025 together!
