DECAN DELINEATIONS

The 1st Decan of Capricorn|December 21-31st

The 1st Decan of Capricorn – Roots, Rocks & Reality Checks

The 1st decan of Capricorn doesn’t tiptoe—it stomps in, heavy-footed and unrelenting, dragging the weight of responsibility like an ox yoked to an ancient plow…

Astrologer Austin Coppock calls this decan a realm where “details become clear,” revealing both the gifts and the traps of the terrain.

Here, location is destiny.

Whether you’re a seed searching for fertile soil or a creature scouting for the perfect spot to build a nest, the spirit floats free just long enough to choose—and then it digs deep, anchoring itself in the law of the land… but here’s the rub: if the soil you choose is rocky or thin, you’ll find yourself grappling with the stubborn limits of your choices.

Jupiter reigns over this decan, but in Capricorn, it’s not the bountiful banquet you’d expect.

No, here Jupiter is in its fall, which means abundance doesn’t come easy—it’s earned through grit, sweat, and maybe a few tears.

This is the decan of transitions, where change isn’t a possibility—but a demand.

Through the darkest night of the year, this decan carries a heaviness you can’t put down—you don’t avoid it; you learn to carry it.

And maybe… just maybe—you emerge on the other side stronger for it.

The 2 of Pentacles – “Juggling Act: Death, Play, and the Infinite Loop”

Welcome to the 2 of Pentacles, where balance isn’t serene—it’s precarious, dynamic, and utterly exhausting…

Tarot writer TS Chang calls out the undercurrent of death here, not just as an end, but as the eerie pulse that runs through this card’s energy.

Coming off the third decan of Sagittarius, this isn’t a gentle transition—it’s the solstice, the darkest hour before the light returns.

Chang reminds us that the solstice is rife with ancient lore: dances of death, sun-god sacrifices, and rituals of reincarnation—here, the ego undergoes its own quiet death, making way for a new iteration of self.

The change isn’t optional. It’s written into the season.

But this decan isn’t all doom and gloom—it’s also a call to redemption through reinvention.

Chang advises, “tender up your old selves and redeem them for something new…” so let go of what no longer serves, and find freedom in the act of release.

Tarot writer Jessica Dore, however, adds a surprising twist: fun.

Yes, fun—perhaps the last thing you’d expect in a decan so rooted in heaviness.

Dore describes the 2 of Pentacles as a reminder of the necessity of play, especially for those navigating life’s weightier realities—she writes of the delicate juggling act we all perform, likening the infinity loop holding the coins together to the unpredictable nature of play itself.

Play isn’t frivolous—it’s essential. It’s how we learn to navigate the chaos without losing our grip.

The man in the card juggles two coins, precariously airborne, always moving…

The message is clear: nothing stays the same, and the balance you seek is found not in stillness, but in movement.

As Dore quotes Shimi Kang, “play activates the brain’s prefrontal cortex and helps us learn to settle into spaces of unpredictability.”

So, go ahead—juggle the coins, dance in the chaos, and remember that life, like the 2 of Pentacles, is an infinite loop of death and rebirth, work and play, fall and flight. The Jupiter-ness of it all.

The Sun Through the 1st Decan – “Karma’s Bootcamp”

As the sun squares the nodes, you’re thrust into a karmic crucible, where the things you’ve tried to avoid—the shadows you’d rather not face—stand in stark relief…

This isn’t the time for polite reflection; it’s the moment where you’re confronted, again and again, with the very lessons you’ve spent lifetimes dodging.

The path forward?

Ruthless honesty.

Coppock would tell you to lean into the hard truths without indulging in self-pity or blame.

The trick is to engage with the lesson, meet it fully, and then release it—if you linger too long, questioning who’s at fault or what went wrong, you risk being sucked into a vortex of repetition with no resolution in sight.

The challenge is to take up your karmic lessons with grace—not as a punishment, but as a necessary step toward growth. As you do, the heaviness begins to lift, replaced by a lightness born of resilience and self-acceptance.

Reflective Questions

• Where in my life am I resisting change, and what would happen if I let go of that resistance?

• How can I better juggle the dualities of work and play, seriousness and joy, responsibility and freedom?

• What old parts of myself am I ready to release, and what new beginnings am I inviting in their place?

• Where am I rooted, and is this soil nourishing my growth—or stifling it?

Actions to Honor the Energies

1. Reevaluate Your Foundation

Consider where you’ve planted yourself—physically, emotionally, or spiritually. Is this the right environment for your growth? If not, begin to map out a path to new, more fertile soil.

2. Play With the Process

Incorporate moments of play and spontaneity into your daily routine. This isn’t escapism; it’s a way to recalibrate your balance and embrace life’s unpredictability.

3. Practice Letting Go

Perform a simple ritual of release—whether it’s journaling, meditating, or physically discarding an object tied to an old version of yourself. Honor the past, but don’t let it define you.

4. Set Boundaries with Your Energy

Capricorn energy is industrious, but the 2 of Pentacles reminds us not to overcommit. Say no when needed and prioritize what truly matters.

Potential Action Goals

• Identify one area of your life where balance feels elusive, and take a tangible step to restore equilibrium.

• Commit to letting go of one outdated belief or pattern that no longer serves you.

• Experiment with playfulness in a task that usually feels heavy—bring levity into the seriousness.

• Create a personal mantra to ground yourself in times of instability, like: “I am rooted in change and anchored in growth.”

In Conclusion

The 1st decan of Capricorn is both a weight and a wonder, a call to root yourself in the soil of transformation…

It reminds us that every ending carries the seed of a beginning—and that balance, however precarious, is found in the movement between work and play, death and rebirth.

Change isn’t a choice here; it’s a necessity.

The question is how you’ll dance with it…

Will you let the heaviness define you, or will you juggle it with grace, stepping boldly into the infinite loop of life?