MAGICAL MISCELLANY
Why You Should Subscribe to the Planetary Planner & No Woo-Woo, Darling—Whimsy: A Declaration in Stardust & Syllables…
Image credit—@candidly.carly on Instagram
Why You Should Subscribe to the Planetary Planner (and Surrender Your Inbox to the Stars)
1. Because you’re not just a human, you’re a constellation in motion…
And someone ought to tell you what your soul’s weather is doing before you try to text your ex or change your career at 3AM.
2. Because astrology is not a party trick—it’s a poetic diagnostic for the soul…
I translate the skies like Leonard Cohen with a telescope, offering insight that doesn’t patronize or pontificate. It penetrates.
3. Because the planets have moods, and so do you…
Weekly planetary insights arrive like love letters from the universe—only better dressed and better timed.
4. Because you’re tired of astrology that reads like a fortune cookie written by a sleep-deprived intern…
These posts are art. These posts bleed. These posts build bridges between your heartbreak and your rebirth.
5. Because I don’t do “woo”—I do whimsy with fangs…
I won’t float off into ether—I’ll meet you in the mud, light a candle, and tell you the stars are listening.
6. Because your intuition deserves a translator...
You already know the truth—I just help you trust it.
7. Because the stars aren’t just up there—they’re in you…
And this subscription reminds you that you’re not just reacting—you’re responding to a cosmic choreography.
8. Because Mercury retrograde is coming (again), and wouldn’t you rather be prepared than panicked?
9. Because you deserve astro-guidance that honors your grief, your grit, your grandeur...
Every post is a mirror. A map. A myth. A middle finger to mediocrity.
10. Because you want astrology that meets you at the threshold of change, hands you a metaphor, and whispers: “Let’s go…”
11. Because being spiritually curious doesn’t mean abandoning your edge…
I blend mysticism with mischief, turning planetary positions into psychic punk rock.
12. Because there’s no such thing as “too much soul...”
But there is such a thing as forgetting you have one—this subscription is your reminder.
13. Because you want to live your chart—not just look at it…
With mythic insight and grounded reflection, I teach you to embody your cosmic blueprint.
14. Because you’re not afraid of shadow work—you just want a flashlight and a playlist…
I provide both—often with a cheeky grin and a quote from Alan Watts.
15. Because every planetary post feels like therapy, stargazing, and an exorcism wrapped in velvet…
You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll probably screenshot it and send it to your emotionally constipated friend.
16. Because when the world feels incoherent, astrology helps you hold the thread…
I don’t promise answers. I offer resonance.
17. Because you want to understand the tension between your craving for chaos and your longing for peace…
And the planets know.
18. Because subscribing means supporting independent mystical mischief…
This isn’t a content mill. This is handcrafted, lunar-aged, soul-sourced insight—made with love and planetary precision.
19. Because love is also a cycle, and you should probably know what phase you’re in…
20. Because deep down, you know the sky is whispering…
And I know how to translate the dialect of the divine.
In summary…
Subscribe because you’re ready to feel seen.
Subscribe because your heart is an oracle and your life is a ritual.
Subscribe because you’re done living without a mythic map.
Subscribe… because the planets are speaking.
And I know how to listen…
No Woo-Woo, Darling—Whimsy: A Declaration in Stardust & Syllables
Let us finish, dear reader, by tossing out the term woo-woo the way one might flick a dusty doily off a velvet fainting couch—gently, but with finality…
I have never cared for the sound of it.
Woo-woo sounds like a goose hiccuping or a ghost too polite to haunt you properly.
And while some may say it with affection, or worse—derision—I do not wear that word...
I wear whimsy.
Because whimsy is not soft-headed nonsense or spiritual bypass dressed up in amethyst and aphorism.
Whimsy is precision disguised as poetry.
It is cosmic truth wearing a feather boa, humming Debussy through a transistor radio tuned to Neptune.
It is the refusal to speak in monotone about things that were meant to make your heart howl.
See, when I write about the moon kissing Mars, I am not trying to mystify you—I am trying to re-hydrate your imagination, the part of you that remembers you’re made of dust and desire and probably a little lava… when I say Venus retrograde feels like a love letter sent to the wrong address, I don’t mean it figuratively—I mean it experientially. I am describing the ache of celestial misfire in the language your bones understand.
This is not woo-woo. This is whimsy with teeth.
It’s Saturn dressed like a librarian, quietly demanding you grow a spine.
It’s Chiron as a barefoot healer with a cigarette and a switchblade.
It’s Pluto whispering lullabies in the key of exorcism.
My astrology doesn’t float above you in a cloud of incense and vague intentions… it grabs your wrist and pulls you down into the sticky, glorious mess of your actual life—the breakup, the breakdown, the breakthrough. The part of you that both wants to hide and be seen—astrology doesn’t judge that part. I translate it.
You won’t find me preaching in platitudes or bathing in the milky bathwater of vague affirmations. I’m the kind of guide who’ll hand you a map made of metaphors and say, “Here. You won’t get lost with this. You’ll get found.”
Because whimsy isn’t an escape—it’s an entry.
It’s how we speak the truth without the lies of logic getting in the way.
It’s the sacred art of sneaking wisdom into the wound like a joke that heals on impact.
It’s the planetary planner in drag.
So when you hear me waxing poetic about Neptune’s sea-song or Mars’ muscle memory, don’t mistake it for fluff. It’s not woo—it’s a language your soul never forgot.
I am not here to coddle. I am here to conjure.
To disarm the cynic in your spine.
To remind you that time is a circle, not a spreadsheet.
And that magic, when properly translated, doesn’t float off into oblivion…
It grounds. It blooms. It builds a house inside your ribcage and dares you to live in it.
Whimsy, you see, is the scaffolding of the sacred—it is the architecture of awe.
And it’s a hell of a lot more interesting than pretending we don’t all secretly believe the moon is talking to us…
So next time someone side-eyes your stardust and calls it woo, just smile with the knowing of a trickster priestess and say:
“No, honey. This isn’t woo. This is whimsy in drag. This is truth wearing sequins. This is me, loving the universe out loud...”
And then? Wink—and walk off with the planets in your pocket…