In a sea of performative annual feminism, women just get on with it. As we always do, quietly and without chest beating. It is how this world actually keeps spinning, no matter the wars in the world of men or the disasters that lap at our homes and caravans of care. Running the usual gauntlets and battling the same old shit, getting more than our share done for less of the spoils and hoping for throwaway thanks.

If you have been genuflecting for change, something to give or shift or lift, consider your prayers answered from the future. The vibe has shifted from grind to tangent. The balance of power has been tipped back towards the people. And all of our personal planets are now in league in the surreal terroir of Aquaria.

The very first time you hold your first book in your hands.

Revolution begins and ends in the dark corridors of heavy hearts. Out past the breaking point of loss and great griefs, beyond despairing resignation to currents and conditions. Sparked at the tiny cardiac altar when hope flickers low, craving a gust of wind or a strike of lightning to raise its flames to crackling.

The unholy trinity at play in Capricornia, as giant swells lash our world in the wake of the new moon, is nothing less than absolute transformation. Shocking and devastating in its way as it pulls the curtain all the way back on late stage humanity and demands we view its full spectrum unblinking.

The Pisces new moon is a scrying pool that keeps its secret magics hidden in the plainest sight. But you must journey to reach them, tucked in amongst the cliffs at the far end of the zodiac.

This dark moon is anything but restful, rippling with revelation in its starkest terms. The lunar ebb has been delivering a deluge that crams our wide eyes with scenes of devastation and despair, an inevitable tide that none can stem. We all know how we got here, to this existential tipping point of a world now in constant rolling crisis, whose powerbrokers remain only interested in saving themselves.

This week, in the stars and in the world, is crammed with aspects and perspectives that will draw a firm line between past and future. Between the old world still raging in its brutal efforts to survive through sheer force and the new world emerging from its smoke and ruins.

The horror and the helplessness of war is unfathomable. Here we sit in our safe houses scrolling through terror and tyrannical spite spliced disquietingly between our regular programming. It is bewildering and beyond sense or reason. Our world gone mad - again - as the revolution is televised in real time and on sickening repeat.

It was back in Pisces of 1859 that Charles Dickens penned the first instalment of what would become A Tale of Two Cities, musing on the fervent intersection of the individual with revolution.

More often than not, the afterglow of the full moon delivers its message. Insight arrives once its fever pitch has peaked, the lunacy subsiding so we can feel into more than its blazing gaze. Hindsight ponies up perspective unavailable in real time, whose value lies in quiet contemplation.

Last night I found myself wandering back through time. I lay my body down to sleep and my soul slips out to set sail on the old currents that still sometimes lap at my shore.

Because this is my birth-ing day, it seems entirely perfect to announce the arrival of my very first book baby.

Morsel, a collection of poems and tales, is due for release when the stars align in just a few short weeks!

The blue king of dreams has gotten under Lady Love's shimmering skin. Whimsical and distracted, delirious and desiring of... what exactly? In the litter of hearts and flowers with the dark moon shadow falling our way, it is hard to be definite. And that is just how Neptune likes it, all the better to let his glamour cultivate what plays behind the thinning veils.

Start your engines, darklings and daemons. This heart shaped week delivers us to new shores as we continue to make the crossing from past to future on multiple fronts. The final straits of Aquaria serve up quite a smorgasbord to serve as the bridge to beyond.

The strange ripple in this day and the one after is more than the constant glitching of what once was matrix. It is something beyond regular programming and far below its cause and effect. And it has Pluto's spiny fingers all over it, tickling underbellies and shadows out of hiding.

Though the start of this transforming year was shrouded in retrograde and revisionary imperatives, one thing is crystal clear. There is no going back. There is only looking forwards, grounding down and now, picking up the pace and the patter that will unlock the next phase of revolution.