“Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet.” —Thich Nhat Hanh
This isn’t a day that screams. It smolders.
The sky doesn’t crack open with lightning; it opens with intention. With a hush. With the sacred steadiness of someone returning to their body after a long season of living elsewhere.
The sun, warm and womb-like in Cancer, sings to the oldest part of you—the one that still believes in the redemptive power of remembering who you are without shame. This isn’t nostalgia; it’s resurrection… it’s finding your reflection in a tide pool and realizing that even your tears have lineage.
The solar light here doesn’t demand, it invites.
It beckons you inward—to the hearth, to the gut, to the memory held behind your ribs that says: you have always known the way home…
Meanwhile, Mars in Virgo sharpens the blade.
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