This wide ranging conversation explored the initiation sequence now ignited by the Aries equinox and new moon that pulls us further into the Age of Aquarius. We mused on the soul's calling gaining momentum in each of us, the world and its evolution, epoch changes and trauma, listening to the call of the god/desses and our modern hunger for an embodied enlivened spirituality. Jumping between intuition, shadow, stars, magic, ritual and so much more.

Some days this world continues to defy belief. The news breaks our hearts. It leaves us mute in shock, harried and hopeless. The scales feel tipped too far in the wrong direction, the hurdles tower over us and faith jumps a bus for the coast. Revolution leaves everyone weary and worm down, especially on days where it feels like the needle hasn't really moved at all.

After any torrid passage, on earth or in the stars, there is a yawning need for rest. Time to tend and digest all that has gone on. Space to muse on what has moved or been shaken beyond beyond former recognition. Room to wonder where and why as we align to a fresh bearing. Its good value won't wait for the dust to settle or the to do list to get done first.

Until June, Pluto makes his first foray into Aquarius and a new generational chime rings out. More deep sub than bell tower, Pluto's impact is occulted and works from the ground down and the inside out. The last time he descended into the water bearer's realm was an era of revolution and invention but we cannot infer the same direct impact in the age of information and tech. How Hades' clarion call to our humanity takes root is yet to be understood, cloudy forms taking shape in dark crystals that defy gnosis.

For a year and a day now my very first book baby has been making her way into the world. Self published on the Aries equinox after years - some would say decades - of procrastination, ruthless editing, relentless changes in form and shape, long stretches of self doubt and even greater nights of scribbling and scribing. Pouring my soul out on to the pages, weaving its song through magical tales to carry us all away.

In the place just before transition, when emergence beckons and you can hear the call of the next horizon flickering beyond the threshold, the temptation is to leap. To bolt towards what comes next, trading the present for the future in a whirling swirling haste.

In the shadow of some heavy planetary jostling, our serene Lady of Love exits the ram's lair for her home state. A torrid crossing that saw her squaring Pluto's anaretica as issues of power and control challenged heartfelt values. Once more with feeling. Venus arrives to her domicile and sinks herself gratefully into its fleshy welcome.

Neptune's fathomless depths draw mighty forces towards the falls at the end of the waterworld. A messy tangle of planets caught in the drag net and tumbling over one another, sometimes swimming in an enchanted synchronicity and other times gasping for air.

We make our way through the far end of the zodiac as if underwater. An odd surrealism permeates the landscape. We are between beginnings and endings, then and the next now. Things are hazy, lines are blurred slack. Worlds are overlapping, mingling in brackish corners.

Saturn's seachange has arrived, towed in by the virgin's moon. She who has already moved on, now ensconced with Neptune at the zodiac bar that overlooks the great falls of Pisces. These cocktails could take down a dragon or two. Nothing is clear. Hard and fast borders and exclamations have dissolved. Feelings have been spilt all over the floor.

The very best kind of magic is sympathetic magic. It harnesses the power of one of our world's most significant forces, that of resonance. A recognition of its counterpoint in another.

Even after such a long dark middle ages she resisted the cocoon until finally the gossamer weave was placed gently over her sagging shoulders. She folded herself into it gratefully and balled up to swim her way through the transition.

Saturn's move into Pisces less than an hour after the Virgo full moon exacts next week is undeniably a big deal. His anaretic squat in Aquaria has been keenly felt, its heavy weight reinforcing the themes of the transit while nodding to what lies just across the border.

As we wait with bated breath for next Tuesday's significant shifters, it is all too easy to get ahead of ourselves. Haul fraught minds and willing bodies across borders prematurely in an effort to project ourselves into the future and bypass any clear and present discomfort. As usual, Saturn's not having a bar of it.

Mercury has landed fleet footed in Taurus, the psychopomp arriving to eclipse territory with more than a few tricks up his fluttering sleeve. Here for his longest stretch in decades thanks to an incoming retrograde. Its shadow already dancing at the far end of this week, only adding to its now or neverness.

More than a week into the mythical mutable realms and we are being relentlessly dazzled by the skies of the farthest reaches. Auroras have been blazing across a wide band from both poles, even further afield since Pisces arrived promising the next big things.

The Phoenix Motel languishes at the end of a long dusty highway, the bugs on your windscreen betraying how hard and fast the drive has been. The rooms are filling quickly as they always do this time of year. The smart money is getting locked in for the scorpion's moon.

You have arrived to the Pisces waiting room and all that bobs patiently in its fertile pond of dreams. Here we sit in odd solitude biding time and tides and waiting for the big change we feel coming deep in our marrow. Bones worn weary by a world chewing its own arm off in spite and a revolution of the species that will no longer broker refusal.