Only Fools and Horses
The Harbor of Bionic Dream by artist Ayham Jabr
The Libran full moon rises over this week as checkpoint and palate cleanser, the first in the new astrological year and fading wake of a torrid eclipse season. Retro rear vision mirrors are no longer clamoring for our attention with flashy undones. With all planets in direct motion until May and most of in Aries, this horse year finally begins to gallop through the smoke and mirrors of the old world now dying at its own hand.
Empires always end this way, in a cloud of hubris and entitlement that disregards suffering and consequence. Monsters have a tendency to take many down with them as they go, refusing to die quietly or well. Meanwhile the curtain yanked all the way back to gasps of horror flaps in the winds of change, at everyone still looking away. The rot revealed as foundation stone while the system still devours all it claimed coquettishly to serve. The slow falling guillotine of all the -cides colliding as the world tips even further the wrong way.
I will always lament the power of a few shit men to force our collective gaze, never more keenly focused on a narrow strait than now. It remains remarkable the way the whole world has been shredded, ribboned into such a multiplicity of virtual streams in such a short space of time. It means that the peninsula you have been squinting at for weeks determines how you feel about Here and Now, as well as What and Why, borne of the savvy diverse choices you have made when it comes to media and opinion. Your algorithm, purchasing choices and plethora of tracking devices decided the rest for you.
Those of us who grew up drinking from the hose remember a time when you did not have to hold the weight of the whole world’s constantly streaming hot takes in your head. Those of us with differently shaped minds borne of analogue learning and lived experience remember when your attention was not farmed as primary commodity. Days that were not winnowed through artificial gates and narrow synapse. Lives centered in what you were doing rather than what you were watching.
Since equinox the world has again felt mythological. Still here we all are as the worm turns, and the earth quakes beneath our feet. The old maps don’t work. The time of inversion that preceded ensured we do not trust them, nor their architects any more. Information itself has become speculative and certainty as elusive as the whole truth. We are all in an abusive relationship with tech and the AI cleanskins get fewer by the digit.
Art via Berlin Art Parasites, uncredited
Equinox is the balance beam of the sun’s journey around the wheel of the year but it rarely feels like an equal moment. More commonly the weeks before and after tend to prove the places where we still wobble, or falter. The astrological new year tapping on its watch and tearing up the resolutions leftover from the one at lunar year in February, and the one before that when everyone was still covered in December. Aries did not stutter and is already streaking off into the distance. Having moved through the first three stelliums of the year - because every star stretch has been a study in concentration - we now charge into the fourth and everything is rent ramrod. This year’s initiation tests are not playing around. None of us can go back now the threshold has been crossed.
Initiation is powerful currency. There is an enchanted force that aligns with those willing to bravely cross thresholds and take giant leaps of faith. The trusters of soft wings and broad feet, who can wrangle a rocky landing into unknown territory and smile widely at what greets them. Dawn watchers and time keepers who greet their future with open arms and welcome the full spectrum of their next adventure through the wild unknown. I trust those life sparkers - moments, people, places - like nothing else, even when they smart or sting.
Soon the Libran full moon rises over it all and well may we wonder what lies upon its scales. What has this past week truly been impressing upon you, held tight or torn in your hands? The Aries Libra axis is a riddle in relationship to everything, whose kryptonite is the kind of disconnection the modern world foments. These days embodiment is taught instead of lived, making a minefield out of the quest to know thyself and the other. This axis will keep asking us to strive for balance between the two, rather than the nearest artificial approximation.
This full moon is agitating the entire Aries stellium from now in a wide arc of exposure that reveals motive, machination and firepower. Things shift fast for the next month in a field already flooded; the canny set their own pace. Venus is in charge of the pink peak from her domicile, newly ensconced in her home state of Taurus inviting a return to the body divine, the temple of the spirit and the earth. But Lady Love is still in lingering conversation with Chiron, licking wounds still to be salted with more than half the cosmos yet to stop by. She is disrupted by her square dancing with Pluto in Aquarius, just in case you thought all this jiving with the shadows might pass. Unlikely in this economy, or at the hands of the muppets who crashed it. The lovely Libran moon itself forming a square to Jupiter in Cancer, enlarging the frame and testing recent retrograde learning curves. Tucked into all its X Marks The Spot is Hecate, mistress of the crossroads with her dark retinue.
This is not a mooner you want to miss, darklings.
Words c. Kerrie Basha 2026