Swimming deeply through the mythical mutable realms of revolution and we are being relentlessly dazzled by the skies of the farthest reaches. Auroras have been blazing across a wide band from both poles, further afield since Pisces arrived as prelude to eclipse season.

The rampant revolutionising of life and love paired with the gentle oblivion of the far end of the zodiac demands mutiplicity but it is a slippery sucker to hold. Its pretty fleeting fish swim in two different directions. Hope defies certain death. Grief mingles with joy in brackish water. The future is a promised land just over a border we can feel but can't see.

In the cloudy backwash of last weekend's full moon, strange creatures are emerging from the depths. As though the supersonic blasts of sun and moon, frequencies and fuckery, keep conspiring to dissolve the barriers to necessary change.

The water always called, whispering in strange tongues as her blood rushed and the tides surged. Between the moon and her there were no secrets. Nothing hidden from the gloaming that promised its night of strange fables, already stippling her skin as she dreamwalked the shoreline.

Depth charge, anyone? Pisces season arrives now, inconveniently ensconced between the Aquarian search party on the hunt for something truer and Aries' cauterising of the old world in service of the future. Resilience building in the grift betwixt all the 'cides colliding and oblivion. The ever present threat of delusion and subtefuge disturbing what once passed for peace.

Today, on this particularly magical day in my world, Venus rose with the sun. A phenomenon which, like so many others that regularly pepper our lives, we shall not see again in our lifetime. Not until 2117 will Lady Love streak across the face of her sun king trailing stars in her wake.

We don't fall in love. Not ever at first, we rise in it. Our hearts bloom and our blood rushes. Blessed as love even briefly takes its shoes off at our front door, enters without knocking and makes a hell of a smiling mess in our kitchen. We rest snug and delighted in the first flush. Love blossoms simpatico. The strings in our chest gently plucked by another who may have walked on by a hundred other days.

There always be dragons. Since time immemorial the creatures whose genesis mirrors earth's, whose spirit carries ours, whose formidable power spawns the greatest ambitions for lives lived in service to the magic of this too often mundane realm. By no coincidence dragon years mirror significant shifts in humanity.

The tides are rising. We are riding the waves as the eclipse tempest swirls toward its peak, crossing the torrenting channel to meet the shadow cast by the next eclipse. From now we ratchet in tandem, surging and swelling as the luminaries conspire to shift and shunt us through revelation and revolution.

This week is utterly magic though what that looks like and how that manifests is up to you. Magic is neutral until you add intention, charge and reception. The shockwaves common to it can evoke or electrocute, largely dependent over the next few days on whether you have already boarded the revolutionary train to The Future.

Pluto's retrograde is the next to tangle itself in this eclipse season, now stationing to turn and head underground for his regular sabbatical in the shadowlands. This year locked in a challenging aspect with the axis of past and future and our current eclipse ground zero. Dragging us back and forth across evolutionary thresholds that grate and smooth by design.

The strange in between is here. We have arrived to the stormy half moon fulcrum that dangles us precariously between solar and lunar eclipse. Neither here nor there, travelling between past and future without anchor or orientation by design. This place is both portal and portent, shimmering like cut glass and razor sharp on its edges.

Nearly through the first scrambling week of Mercury's retrograde, its partnership with the eclipse portal is becoming more apparent. So too our collective need to move beyond hysterical reactivity, starry eyed bypassing and random planetary excuse generation.

This all too regular rx transit amplifies Mercury's rulership, and too our chronic dependency on tech. We have long traded our bodies and their innate guidance systems for EMFs and little black boxes, housing screens that constantly pull us away from the truth that lives in our cells.

Taurus season arrives amid eclipses, retrogrades and change writ large. Though the luxe lair of the little bull is renowned for its feet on the ground fixed nature, myriad factors conspire to make this Taurean jaunt wildly unpredictable.

In the dark she lay coiled, comforted only by the proximity of her own body and its tangled histories. Wildness coursed through her veins, cauterising any cares she had left and stretching her hunger to breaking. After so long spent itching in her skin and burning for change, transition began without warning. Alone in the belly of the cave when no moon hung in the sky.

Our Coven Electric homes more than 40 dark moon posts since 2019 and hundreds in total. Crammed with tips and tricks, rituals and spells, the lore and lure of this potent cauldron space. Now magnified by a factor of eclipsia. And of course you are welcome to join us, for a moon or more. To deepen your connection to the natural world and its cycles by fostering your own spirituality and soul deep understanding. Marrying purpose to power, a winning combination.

As our next Giant Week in the Stars arrives bearing promise and potential, it is as important as ever not to gallop ahead of ourselves. Feeling into the distinct entelechy of the eclipse sequence is how we harness its magic, aligning ourselves to its torrent and too its tiny shards.

Eclipse season is a marathon not a sprint. This time around it brings in a sign change and a retrograde. We move carefully towards Thursday's epic mindful of all we must navigate - and prepare for - on a personal path to our first collective eclipsing this year.