The PLANETARY PLANNER

APRIL 2025| PART 2

JUNCTURES OF JUPITER

Jupiter in Gemini is not here to answer your questions. It’s here to reword the questions until they rhyme, then sell you a scroll labeled “figure it out, genius.” This is expansion through contradiction. Faith through friction. Welcome to the cosmic comedy club of your own becoming…

Throughout April, Jupiter moves between 16° and 21° Gemini, donning the mask of bland realism while sneaking metaphysical fireworks into the back pocket of your jeans. This Jupiter doesn’t show up as a guru on a flying carpet—it shows up in your most rational thoughts, disguised as your inner spreadsheet. It’s the voice in your head saying, “Let’s be practical,” while simultaneously downloading blueprints for future civilizations straight into your subconscious. You may appear “together,” “grounded,” or “just fine.” That’s the ruse. Behind the scenes, your inner jester is throwing glitter on the altar and preparing to blow the lid off your entire identity.

This is the school of sacred misdirection.

If you’ve been playing it safe, expect a knock at the side door—Jupiter likes to enter through places you’re not guarding. And what enters may scare the self-image right off you. These are the weeks when destiny doesn’t whisper—it yells your name while wearing your ex’s hoodie. Nothing will go exactly as planned, which is precisely how your soul likes it. The only rule? Loosen your grip on the rules.

This cycle asks you to renounce performance, abandon the scripted life, and sit in the space where being supersedes doing. The paradox? You’ll likely still be doing quite a lot. Just don’t let the “doing” become drag. You are being trained for multidimensional living, and that means learning how to act without acting, to speak without explaining, to move without proving. Your expansion now comes through non-definition.

Of course, that’s not without trial.

Some of you will undergo wild initiatory tests—Jupiter loves a heroic subplot. You may find yourself in life-versus-life chess matches, where the stakes are all internal, but the consequences feel biblical. And when the crisis hits (and it will), you’ll discover the only part of you that can survive is the part that was never performing to begin with. Jupiter in this phase doesn’t just test your belief system—it sets fire to it and hands you a marshmallow stick. So if your old map starts smoldering? Congratulations. That’s your initiation.

There’s also a temptation here—one that hides behind cleverness. You may find yourself streamlining your identity, shaving off inconvenient edges to better fit the box labeled “success.” But beware the trap of looking good while shrinking. Jupiter doesn’t bless reduction. It blesses bold. If you’re adapting at the expense of authenticity, you’ll feel it. It won’t be pain—it’ll be hollowness. The sound of potential echoing through a chamber that’s been curated into silence.

This is a month where you’re invited—no, dared—to break the mirror, drop the act, and let your vastness be inconvenient.

So, what’s the secret spell?

Let yourself be seen. Not the version of you that knows the right words, but the one that’s been hoarding weird truths in your ribcage for the right moment. This is the moment. And the only way through this Jupiterian labyrinth is to stop pretending it’s linear…

It’s a spiral, baby. Laugh. Leap.

Speak truths that sound like riddles.

Say yes before you know what you’re saying yes to.

Because this isn’t just a transit. It’s a treasure hunt in a hall of mirrors.

And you, darling, are the map.

STRUCTURES OF SATURN

This isn’t Saturn the scold—it’s Saturn the shaman, the soul-smith, the master of sacred pressure who holds your head under until you remember how to breathe…

April finds Saturn swimming between 24° and 27° Pisces, where the bones of reality go soft and start whispering secrets. These are degrees that don’t build walls—they dissolve them. And what’s left in the wreckage? You. Stripped of pretense. Pressed into spiritual service. Called not to climb, but to descend—into memory, into mystery, into the basement of the psyche where your ancestors still pace barefoot, waiting for someone to finish the story.

This is a month where the architecture of your life may feel both exquisitely designed and terrifyingly hollow. You’ll move through waves of clarity and collapse, purpose and paralysis, devotion and dread. This is not the linear progress Saturn usually prefers—it’s a loop. A regressive spiral with teeth. A karmic carousel where you face the very thing you thought you’d outrun—again. But you’re not stuck. You’re being reforged.

What you feel now is not failure. It’s the sacred friction of future pressing against form.

Saturn here pulls you down into the muck of your own becoming, but not to punish you—to reveal you. Every fear that rises is an invitation. Every loss is a ritual. You may feel like you’re being possessed by ghosts and stripped of certainty—because you are. Saturn in late Pisces doesn’t want you to function. It wants you to feel. To attune. To hear the hum beneath the chaos. To recognize that what’s crumbling isn’t your life—it’s the scaffolding that no longer holds your soul.

At its deepest point, this transit becomes a kind of ecstatic disorientation. You are not being asked to build anything in the old way. You are being asked to remember—bone-deep, heart-wide, through every crack in the illusion—that you are capable of holding the infinite within the intimate. That you are the bridge between the known and the unknowable. That magic is real—and Saturn, in its grimmest glory, is the one who dares you to earn it.

So this April, if you find yourself unsure, undone, or undone again—good. It means you’re doing it right.

Saturn in Pisces says: collapse with consciousness. Rebuild with reverence. And never underestimate the power of spiritual compost.

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UPHEAVALS OF URANUS

Uranus in Taurus is the alchemist’s prankster cousin. It doesn’t just shock the system—it rewires it with antique copper and lunar moss. It wants your comfort zone composted into possibility…

In April, Uranus saunters between 24°48’ and 26°22’ Taurus, making slow, seismic mischief in the fertile fields of everything you once called stable. But don’t mistake the pace for passivity. This is tectonic awakening—the kind that moves like molasses until the whole foundation shifts beneath your feet. The theme? Return. Not regression, but recurrence. Sacred loops. Old worlds dressed in new clothes. You may feel like you’ve lived this déjà vu before—and you have. Only now, you’re seeing it from the mountaintop you didn’t know you were climbing.

At the core of this cycle lies a peculiar contradiction: the Buddha and the bull. That is, the urge to be absolutely still and the simultaneous impulse to completely flip the table. Uranus in these degrees creates a kind of sacred standoff—a quiet watcher perched within, witnessing life whirl by like a carousel of cosmic absurdity, while the soul’s underground river stirs with revolutionary juice. The question is: will you abide? Or will you ignite?

Here’s the twist: it’s not either/or.

You are the one who keeps the hearth warm and the one who lights the fuse. This transit reminds you that transformation doesn’t always announce itself with fanfare. Sometimes it arrives disguised as a small nudge, a forgotten dream, a cracked teacup that suddenly sings. Uranus here is obsessed with subtle rebellion—awakening through ordinary moments that become portals if you dare to look twice.

And oh, the mirror games. During this stretch, the gap between your inner truth and your outer projection may feel as wide as the Grand Canyon. You might see yourself becoming someone you didn’t expect—someone more sovereign, more eccentric, maybe even more sacredly selfish. But this isn’t a detour. It’s your essence catching up to your exterior. You are no longer allowed to pretend you’re anyone but the strange, radiant constellation you truly are.

This is the kind of astrology that doesn’t need you to break everything—it just needs you to stop pretending it still fits.

So this April, keep your hands in the soil and your antennae tuned to the absurd. Re-enchant your rituals. Beautify your rebellions. Hug the edge between worlds and don’t be surprised if something alchemical sings back. Because when Uranus moves through Taurus, the earth doesn’t just shake—it remembers.

And when it remembers—you do too.

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NEPTUNIAN NOTIONS

Neptune in Aries is a holy contradiction. It wants action and annihilation, structure and surrender. It’s here to baptize your ego in gasoline and ask what you’re willing to burn for a new beginning…

Throughout April, Neptune hovers between 0°05’ and 1°07’ Aries, teetering at the edge of everything we’ve ever known about dreams, spirit, and the self. Gone are the days of soft-focus revelations and tidal longings. This Neptune has teeth. And fire. And a to-do list. It’s not lounging in the astral spa anymore—it’s storming the gates of the real world with a fistful of visions and zero chill.

But don’t let the new placement fool you into thinking Neptune has sobered up. Oh no. It’s still intoxicated—just now on action. You may feel an almost compulsive need to do something meaningful, to launch something real, to make all those dreamy downloads actualized. You want to build a temple, or a movement, or a revolution. But here’s the rub: this Neptune wants embodiment without clarity, conviction without proof. The dream hasn’t fully revealed itself—but it’s already demanding a blood oath.

This can bring out your inner outlaw. The part of you that would rather torch convention than tidy it. The Neptune-in-Aries energy revels in rebellion, loves a little chaos, and is often in love with its own edge. It constellates the archetype of the misfit mystic, the sacred troublemaker. You may find yourself taking wild risks, shadowboxing with projections, or declaring yourself “done” with something every other day. Don’t panic. That’s Neptune shadowing your ego until it cracks. It wants to know: who are you without the costume?

And if you feel you’re being played—by fate, by your impulses, by reality itself—it’s because you are. Neptune is the god of divine distortion, and in Aries, he’s wielding distortion like a blade. Everything may feel like a projection because, frankly, it is. You’re being asked to navigate a world made of mirrors—and to keep moving anyway. You can’t outthink this. You can only live through it.

So this April, if you find yourself craving raw, tangible purpose—but waking up each day with a different idea of what that means—you’re not lost. You’re being initiated. Neptune in Aries isn’t about defining the dream—it’s about daring to chase it before you’ve named it.

Stay wild. Stay soft. Let your illusions sweat a little.

You’re not becoming someone new. You’re becoming someone real.

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PENETRATIONS OF PLUTO

Pluto in Aquarius doesn’t knock—it detonates. It doesn’t evolve slowly—it quantum-leaps through your psychic circuitry while wearing a grin that says, “Ready or not...”

Throughout April, Pluto pulses between 3°34’ and 3°49’ Aquarius, a razor-thin window vibrating at the frequency of revelation. This isn’t death and rebirth in the slow, molasses-drip kind of way—it’s death via sudden download, rebirth via revolution. It’s the shattering epiphany at 2 a.m., the visionary tremor you can’t explain but can’t shake. If you’re feeling unraveled in public and reassembled in private, you’re exactly where the cosmos wants you.

This Pluto doesn’t care how you’ve always done it. It’s not here for legacy. It’s here for liberation. It wants the old codes out of your bloodstream, the crusted myths out of your mitochondria. You’re being tuned to the frequency of futures not yet written—and that means enduring a few jolts in the system.

Revelations come fast and strange. You may wake up with new values, lose interest in an identity you just spent years building, or find yourself magnetized toward the obscure, the quantum, the radically inclusive. That’s Pluto humming through your bones like a forgotten song—and suddenly, you remember all the words.

This is the zone where collective consciousness starts rearranging its furniture. Old ideologies lose their luster. The tried-and-true feels tired and untrue. You start to crave something you’ve never seen before but somehow know is possible. This is the Plutonic push—not just to grow, but to transcend. To gather at the edge of civilization with fellow soul-stronauts and say, “Let’s rewire this whole thing.”

There is awe in this work. And there is weight.

Because with every glimpse of the luminous future, you’ll be asked to release a part of the past that secretly ruled you. Power here isn’t about control—it’s about resonance. The more aligned you become, the deeper you’re trusted with what’s next. The door opens not through force, but through frequency.

So this April, if your mind feels like a wind tunnel for visionary thought, if your chest aches with the pressure of future truths trying to be born, good. It means Pluto’s doing its work. Don’t resist the tremors. Follow the quake to the cavern underneath. That’s where your next self is waiting, fully awake, eyes wide open, already building the bridge.

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NODAL NUANCES

The nodes are where fate hums a lullaby and karma drops a plot twist. And this month, the story goes deep—mystic deep. Cathedral-in-a-dream deep. The North Node swims backward through the psychic ocean of Pisces, while the South Node polishes its spectacles in Virgo, insisting the divine wears a name tag…

In April, the North Node in Pisces drifts from 27°21’ to 26°24’, like a monk on mushrooms, channeling celestial jazz through a broken flute. The energy here is nothing short of psychedelic surrender. Forget your maps. Forget your title. You’ve been unceremoniously dumped from your throne and asked to listen—really listen—to whatever voice is rising from the sewers of the soul or the stars above your bed. You may feel like an abandoned center, like the spiritual Wi-Fi has been scrambled and you’re downloading dreams from seventeen timelines at once. Good. That’s precisely the point.

Because this is sacred disorientation. The karmic gift of being beautifully, bewilderingly out of touch. You’re being rewired by spirit, ghosted by logic, and courted by the mystery. And though it may feel random or chaotic, there’s an exquisite intelligence moving through this mess. The North Node here says: “You are not meant to solve the riddle. You are meant to become it.”

Meanwhile, the South Node in Virgo plays devil’s advocate, flipping through a Rolodex of routines, judgments, and deeply held preferences. Virgo doesn’t like mystery. Virgo likes bullet points. And spreadsheets. And answers. It clings to the sensible like a cat to a sunbeam, convinced that if it just alphabetizes the suffering, it’ll all make sense. But this karmic knot is tight—too tight. The Virgo South Node keeps the mind busy so the soul doesn’t sneak through the back door.

And yet—somewhere inside that meticulous little self is a dreamer, an imaginer, a being who knows we’re all made of the same stardust and sorrow, and longs to unify the pieces. The old pattern says: “Fix it, perfect it, prove it.” But the future beckons: “Feel it, dream it, dissolve it.” We’re meant to alchemize criticism into compassion, detail into devotion.

This nodal axis asks you to stop arguing with the mystery and merge with it. To stop chasing certainty and offer yourself to the ocean instead. In the loosening of your grip, a new truth arises—one not built from logic, but from love. A truth that feels its way forward, barefoot and bewildered, toward a dream we’ve all been carrying in the seams of our spirit.

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CONCERNS OF CHIRON

Chiron in Aries is the spiritual badass you didn’t know you were apprenticing under—the one who limps, laughs, and still outruns fate when it matters. The wound here is personal, primal, and laced with purpose. And it’s how you carry it that makes all the difference…

This April, Chiron moves from 22°21’ to 24°07’ Aries, dragging behind him a cape of ashes and a backpack full of blueprints for a future only the brave get to build. The pain is old, ancestral even. But the awakening? That’s now. That’s yours. Events arrive like a spiritual flash flood—swift, uncompromising, and absolutely determined to strip away the scaffolding of who you thought you were.

Because this isn’t about healing in the gentle, pet-the-inner-child kind of way. This is healing by eruption. The kind that doesn’t ask you if you’re ready—it shows up with divine urgency and says, You are now. Mountains of intent shift overnight. Identities dissolve mid-sentence. And the parts of you that once begged to stay hidden step forward, blinking, into the spotlight, unashamed.

But it’s not just suffering that drives this medicine. Joy is riding shotgun. Freedom’s holding the map. This Chiron transit is about the electric beauty of becoming—raw, honest, improvisational. You’re learning how to dance on the edges of yourself, to hold your own paradoxes with both fists open. The freedom to be unfinished, the joy of being uncontained—these are not distractions from your path. They are the path.

And here’s the deeper twist: You’ve been storing something. Power. Vision. Vows made in lifetimes you can’t quite name. All those sleepless nights, all those false starts, all the “not yets” and “almosts”—they’ve been composting into something sacred. You’ve been between the worlds, waiting for the flare, the signal, the summons.

Now, you feel it rising. The banks are swelling. The waters of destiny are preparing to flood.

So yes, April might shake you. It might press that old ache, the one lodged under the ribcage, just to see what it’s become. But when that moment comes—and it will—you’ll realize: the wound never made you weak. It made you ready.

The future needs your fire. Chiron has simply been preparing you to carry it, wisely and wild.

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APRIL 2025 | COSMIC CONCLUSION

It’s not a month—it’s a metamorphosis. And you’re not merely living it. You’re composing it with your breath, your choices, your stardust-spattered will…

April doesn’t offer ease—it offers evolution. The kind that doesn’t wait for your readiness, doesn’t care for your five-year plan. It arrives like a revelation in a wind tunnel, stripping away everything that isn’t rooted in soul. The sun blazes through Aries into Taurus, lighting up the sacred forge of becoming and asking—what are you ready to risk for the sake of realness?

Mercury walks backward through Pisces like a drunk prophet reciting dreams in reverse, while Venus in retrograde joins Saturn for a sacred reckoning of what love really means when the veils drop. Mars moves from water to fire, shifting from undercurrents to battle cries. And Pluto? That sly architect of the future is already drawing blueprints in your bloodstream.

We are pierced by vision. Burned by longing. Haunted by echoes from lifetimes we forgot to finish. And yet—the call persists: wake up, stir the cauldron, and remember who you were before the world asked you to shrink.

The North Node in Pisces is leading us not toward certainty, but toward surrender. The kind of surrender that clears the fog by walking through it, not around it. And Chiron? That old wound-carver is showing us how to wield the scar like a banner—not to prove we suffered, but to prove we survived and came back holy.

This month is not about answers. It’s about attunement. Not about building castles, but about burning down cages and learning to dance in the ashes. You may not recognize yourself by the end of it—but that’s the point.

So shake the dust from your spine. Bow to the ghosts. Say yes to the fire. And keep walking toward the life that’s too beautiful to explain but too true to ignore.

April is not the aftermath. April is the ignition.

And baby, the stars have already written your name in the flame…