The PLANETARY PLANNER

JULY 2025| PART 1

SOLAR SPOTLIGHTS•••

July in the heavens is a pressure cooker for the soul: the lid rattles with revelation, the flame dances between ferocity and finesse, and the steam—oh, darling, the steam smells like old karma trying to get cooked into something digestible.

The sun, sovereign of spotlight and center-stage theatrics, becomes less of a glowing disc and more of a mythic anvil this month, forging you under heat you didn’t know you could bear into shapes you never dreamed you could hold.

Imagine trying to live inside a poem while your ego insists on writing a grocery list. That’s July 11. The sun in Cancer reaches tender fingertips toward the North Node in Pisces, a gesture of sublime surrender, while casting a backward glance at the South Node in Virgo—a wistful reminder of that one time you mistook hyper-functioning for actual living.

You might find yourself shimmering with meaning so thick and syrupy it coats everything you touch, but—here’s the rub—it may never rise to the level of conscious articulation. Instead, you carry an inner reservoir so rich with impressionistic depth, it hums. But it also isolates… the dreamer becomes the hermit—the wellspring becomes the moat.

This is the rubicon where inner fertility must yield to actual blooming—where the mystic must dare to open their door… where personal symbolism threatens to fossilize unless you let someone else drink from your well. Spiritual overdrive or poetic paralysis—your choice. But there’s only so long you can hoard the holy before it turns sour.

By July 19 the sun connects to Chiron by square—and this square isn’t here to whisper. It’s here to crack you in half and kiss the wound. The sun in late Cancer—carrying the memory of every lullaby you never got—collides with Chiron in Aries, the place where we ache to begin again but keep tripping over our origin stories.

This is karmic clairvoyance wrapped in vulnerability, the tightrope between “I just know…” and “I feel like I’m making it all up.” And maybe both are true. Maybe that’s the price of walking the spiral—never arriving, only remembering in fragments.

You may feel both blessed and burdened with the sense that you were meant to be here now, doing this, knowing that. And yet the knowing doesn’t protect you from the bleeding edge of your own becoming—it just gives you a compass forged in stardust and sweat.

This is not a path for the meek: it’s a soul-etched invitation to embody your own medicine—even when it stings.

Just as the sun roars home into Leo on July 22—crowned, radiant, theatrically unapologetic—it connects by sextile to Uranus, that electric prankster in Gemini. Think divine improv. Think sacred stand-up comedy where every punchline comes with a plot twist.

You’re not who you thought you were. Not even close—but thank god for that…

The sun’s entrance into Leo is always an initiation, but this one zaps the heart awake. What you thought you wanted may reveal itself to be a decoy, but hidden beneath is a want more true, more feral, more you. There’s redemption in the reversal. Don’t fight the detours—they’re the curriculum.

Midstream is messy. It’s where you meet your shadow and your salvation on the same dance floor. Somewhere between the contraction and the expansion, a voice inside says: “Keep going. You’re becoming.”

Then comes July 24—now we’re getting existential. The sun connects via trine to both Saturn Rx and Neptune Rx in Aries like a lion licking flames. What emerges is a strange cocktail of spiritual candor and identity rehab.

You can’t get away from yourself—not even a little. Not even if you tried every ayahuasca retreat in the galaxy. Wherever you go, there you are: with your karmic screenplay, your adolescent urges, and your uncomfortable genius. This trine asks you to stop fighting the form you’ve been given and instead apprentice yourself to it.

And the price of admission? Radical honesty.

You’ll feel the urge to strip down every spiritual platitude and psychological crutch until only the real remains—bare, unsexy, incandescent. A self so true it feels foreign. Your soul is not here for the likes and follows. It’s here to become undeniable.

The old self throws tantrums. The new self watches. And somewhere between rebellion and devotion, your true character lights a cigarette and says, “Finally.”

July 25 is not a handshake—it’s an initiation.

When the sun opposes Pluto, it’s an underworld standoff. A dragon dance in full daylight. The part of you that wants to be seen faces off with the part that prefers to detonate in the shadows.

Power struggles? Yes. But more than that: power revelations. Where you’ve been disempowered, where you’ve misused power, where you’ve mistaken domination for depth—it all gets illuminated. Your ego might scream, but your soul takes notes.

This aspect opens the trapdoor to truth. It’s scary. It’s liberating. It’s the beginning of every novel worth reading. If you’re willing to die to your former self, you just might wake up as someone mythic.

Finally, on July 31, the sun and Mercury will meet in inferior conjunction…

Here’s the mirror. Here’s the crown. And here’s the moment you realize they’re the same damn thing.

As the sun meets Mercury retrograde in Leo, something vital gets revealed. Not shouted. Not broadcasted. Revealed. This is the cazimi—a baptism by fire for the mind. Words return. Meaning sharpens. And the self?—the self finally sees itself uncloaked.

This is not an intellectual upgrade—it’s a soulful reckoning. You are called to speak from the center flame—not from the wound, not from the ego, but from the part of you that has survived everything and still has enough breath left to bless it all.

It’s intimate. It’s wild. It’s vulnerable.

And it’s sacred…

The truth doesn’t need a microphone today. It just needs your courage to say it to yourself.

JULY SOLAR THEMES•••

This is a month of holy friction—between the self you perform and the self you protect… between the voice that soothes and the voice that knows.

The sun in Cancer and Leo doesn’t coddle; it initiates. It asks you to remember where you shine, and then dares you to shine there, especially when it’s inconvenient, misunderstood, or deeply, deliciously true.

So here’s your sacred homework, dear reader of the stars:

Abandon the image in favor of the essence.

Let your wounds whisper wisdom.

Burn brighter—not for show, but for soul.

Let the fire reveal what the mask concealed.

MOON MOODS•••

JULY 2—1st quarter moon at 11°10’ Libra

This moon isn’t so much a crossroads as it is a hall of mirrors—each one reflecting a version of you trying to be reasonable, charming, idealistic, and absolutely, stubbornly unsure.

The Libra-Cancer axis offers tea and sympathy, but pours it from mismatched kettles. The mind wants consensus. The heart wants home. And in between? A tender confusion laced with just enough earnestness to be loveable and just enough delusion to cause a plot twist.

Wishful thinking fogs the glasses of reason. You want harmony, you want partnership, you want to believe that your beautifully constructed ideas will hold water… but today’s emotional plumbing might be leaking somewhere beneath the floorboards.

Still, the analytical mind sharpens behind the veil. A part of you is already trying to catalog what works and what doesn’t, dissecting your daydreams with a scalpel of logic. But even the clearest diagnosis can’t account for the ache in the chest or the whisper in the soul.

So what’s the assignment? Let the moon split you open. Let the facts flirt with feeling. And if you second-guess yourself, make sure it’s at least in good taste.

JULY 10—full moon at 18°50’ Capricorn

This full moon is a paradox in pearls and power suits. It dreams of tenderness while reading from the efficiency manual. A Capricorn moon wants achievement. The Cancer sun wants belonging. Together, they pull the emotional tide taut across the bones of ambition.

You may find yourself speaking in bullet points, yet feeling like a page torn from a diary. Your public self is polished, professional, maybe even a bit robotic—but inside, something raw flickers in secret. A vulnerability so fierce, you tuck it away like a relic in a locked drawer, bringing it out only in ritual, in moonlight, or in dreams.

Here, the full moon isn’t loud—it’s heavy. It shows you the program you’ve been running. The conditioning. The deals you made with yourself to stay “safe” while your soul quietly staged a revolution behind the curtain.

This is the sacred ache of armor that no longer fits. The aching push toward letting just enough of your real self into the room to make contact, without baring the whole trembling underbelly.

Let this moon whisper your name like it’s been doing for lifetimes. Let it remind you that control is not the same as care, and that opening the door a crack might just be how the light finally finds its way back in.

JULY 17— last quarter moon at 25°40’ Aries

This moon is part jazz solo, part battle cry. Aries lunar energy charges the room like a spark in a fireworks factory, while solar Cancer vibes provide the backdrop of longing and legacy. It’s the revolution of the inner child dressed as a visionary.

You’re catching fireflies with bare hands while drafting manifestos in your sleep. The tides of change crash through your chest cavity and call it an awakening. It’s fast, it’s feral, it’s full of purpose—but it’s also wrapped in the glitter of performance and the perfume of curated presence.

This is where the soul becomes a social butterfly with a flamethrower in its purse. You are magnetic and mysterious, designing reality as if it were a runway show for your highest ideals. The trick? Not losing the truth behind the stage lights.

So twirl, dazzle, shine—but remember what ignited you in the first place. This moon wants you to savor the swirl, not get lost in the spectacle.

JULY 24—new moon at 2°08’ Leo

This is not your average reset. This is the kind of new moon that howls at the mirror and dares you to answer back…

Leo doesn’t ask for permission—it kicks the door open with confetti in its hair. And this moon? Leo is hyper-luminous, soaking up sensation like sunbaked stone, desperate to merge spirit and skin in a single incandescent act of truth.

You want to get it right, and you will—but you’ll likely trip over your own enthusiasm on the way there. The little self, drunk on delight, might overcommit to pleasure or get swallowed by performance. It’s tempting to chase every sparkle, but what you’re really after is the kind of fire that stays.

The gift of this moon is your knowing. Not intellectual, not performative—soul-deep certainty that you can. That no matter how often the ego spins its carnival wheel, there’s a self beneath it all with lion-hearted clarity, ready to move the world with a glance and a growl.

Set your intentions not on applause, but on authenticity. Make your life a stage, sure—but let the script be written by the part of you that doesn’t need to be seen to be sovereign.

JULY LUNAR THEMES•••

This month’s lunation cycle reads like a novella of self-contradictions…

The moon asks:

Can you stand in the spotlight without becoming it?

Can you feel everything without making it a brand?

Can you be raw and regal at once?

From confused yearning to backstage clarity, from armored vulnerability to ecstatic reinvention—each phase strips and stitches a new layer of selfhood into place.

This July, let the moon break your heart just enough to let the light in. And this month?—it watches you turn…

From ache to awe. From hush to howl.

𓁿

MERCURIAL MACHINATIONS•••

Mercury in July doesn’t walk—it transmutes. The cosmic courier takes a detour through Leo’s theatrical terrain and pauses mid-monologue to slip behind the curtain. This month, thought is a shapeshifter, and communication is a séance with selves you haven’t met yet. You might find your voice one moment and misplace it the next, as Mercury dances between clarity and camouflage, story and silence, with a sly smirk and a wink to the stars.

JULY 16—Mercury stations retrograde at 15°27’ Leo

Here, Mercury doesn’t just pause—it vanishes. The station at 15° Leo doesn’t shout “rewind”—it whispers, “remember...”

You may feel suspended in amber, playing out a role you didn’t audition for, on a stage built from karmic contracts. The thoughts come like ghosts: familiar but not quite tangible. The words falter, not from lack of knowledge, but from the pressure of a script your soul hasn’t finished editing.

This is the moment between breaths, when time turns soft at the edges and the trickster god of language slips through the seams of reality. You might be watching your own life from the mezzanine, wondering how you got into this plotline. But take heart—this isn’t a detour… it’s a prelude. You’re tying off threads from lifetimes, finishing sentences that began before birth. Let the silence speak. Let the glitch reveal the gate.

JULY 18—Mercury/Venus

This aspect hums like an old jazz record at sunrise. Mercury, now retrograde, catches Venus in Gemini by the hand in a sextile that feels like a secret rendezvous—one part charm, two parts fate, with a garnish of golden nostalgia. These aren’t just words being exchanged. These are soul-borne frequencies, the kind of communications that shimmer through eye contact, brush past the veil, and settle into your bones like déjà vu.

You’re speaking from somewhere deeper now. The inner witness has taken the mic. And as Mercury and Venus lean toward one another across the fire-air divide, the messages get laced with beauty, longing, and old truths ready to bloom in new ways.

This transit asks:

Can you let love reshape your language?

Can you let connection rewrite the storyline?

And can you recognize that sometimes the most powerful things you’ll ever say arrive as silence wrapped in warmth?

Let the solar current move through your words like sunlight through stained glass. Let what you’re becoming call you forward—and for a moment, just for a moment, speak like every syllable is a bridge to the eternal.

JULY 27—Mercury/Vesta

This square is no polite conversation. It’s a collision between soul-pledge and persona, devotion and dramatic flair. Mercury in Leo wants to perform—loudly, boldly, unforgettably. But Vesta in Scorpio guards the sacred flame, insisting that some truths are earned, not broadcast.

It may feel like you’ve got molten magic behind your tongue but no microphone willing to receive it. Your brilliance wants out, but every attempt gets met with a mirror, a silence, a shrug. You start to believe the world doesn’t get you—or worse, that it never wanted to.

But don’t fall for that shadow script. This is the tension before the incantation. The darkened theater before the curtain lifts. The lesson is not about shrinking—it’s about refining. You’re not here to convince the world. You’re here to become so utterly you that the world has no choice but to recognize its own forgotten language in your fire-lit breath.

Let the brooding burn clean. Let the resentment transmute. This is Mercury’s invitation to re-devote your voice—not to outcome, but to offering. To speak from your altar, not your stage. And to know, finally, that your authenticity is not a performance, but a promise.

JULY MERCURY THEMES•••

This isn’t just a retrograde. It’s a rite of return. A ritual of resonance. A reckoning with your realest voice—the one that’s been waiting behind the noise.

Expect shapeshifts in how you think, speak, and make meaning. Let the mishaps be messages. Let the echoes be allies. Let Mercury show you the warp in the world where the soul slips through—and learns to speak again.

𓁿

VENUSIAN VENTURES•••

July’s Venusian tides shimmer like oil on water—glorious, slick, and impossible to pin down. Venus begins in Taurus, sensual and slow, but the goddess gets a Gemini passport by the Fourth, and suddenly she’s changing outfits mid-sentence and falling in love with the very idea of love again. She flirts with futures, debates devotion, squares off with desire, and sextiles her way into evolutionary breakthroughs.

The theme? Multiplicity meets meaning.

JULY 4—Venus/Uranus in Taurus… and then enters Gemini

Fireworks indeed. As Venus slips out of Taurus with one last barefoot kiss to the earth, she catches Uranus at the threshold and gets zapped into her next incarnation—quicksilver, word-drunk, curious as sin.

This isn’t just a cosmic flirtation; it’s a karmic unzipping. You may feel like you’ve been here before (because, in soul time, you probably have). The past wraps around you like a warm fog—but instead of comforting, it crackles. Something’s awakening. Something’s being asked. Will you ruminate or renew?

This transit dares you to look back only long enough to understand what you’re taking forward. Don’t scorn the journey just because it wasn’t always romantic. Venus-Uranus reminds us: when you bless what’s been, you open the gates to what could be.

JULY 7—Venus/Pluto

Here, Venus plays twin to herself. The outer self chatters, tweets, curates playlists. The inner self? She’s in the underworld, negotiating metaphysical treaties and painting doorways into invisible futures. This trine is all about the simultaneous dance of surface and soul.

You may feel stretched across dimensions—maintaining small talk while dreaming in blueprints for civilizations yet to be born. The “you” people see is only one sliver of what’s alive behind the eyes. But Pluto is not interested in appearances. It whispers to the deeper twin, the one who’s ready to make love into a revolution and intimacy into initiation.

This is where your longing becomes lucid. Where your flirtations become prayers. Don’t get too attached to the packaging—this is about feeling the call to something wilder, freer, more attuned to the frequencies that make reality bend toward meaning.

JULY 21—Venus/Nodes

The square to the nodes is no flirtation. This, too, is something of an initiation—a karmic trial dressed up in paradox and heartache, offering no guarantees but all the raw material for transcendence.

You may be facing love as a mirror: fractured, stunning, unbearable in its precision. Old patterns rise. Familiar ghosts rehearse their lines. Venus stands at the crossroads, not to choose sides, but to burn the map.

This is about slicing through the sentimental illusions and reclaiming the fierce clarity beneath. It’s about recognizing that the self-consistent story you’ve been telling might be keeping you imprisoned. You’re not here to be the perfect lover. You’re here to be the true one. And truth sometimes looks like dismantling everything that made you feel safe.

This square demands you surrender every borrowed script:

What arises when the performance drops?

Who loves when the persona dissolves?

JULY 23—Venus/Mars

Here we have erotic friction with a chore list. Venus is writing sonnets while Mars is editing for clarity. Gemini wants variety; Virgo wants results.

Together they create a sizzling tension that asks: how can you stay spontaneous and still show up on time?

This is the square of calculated seduction and strategic sincerity. You may be tempted to compartmentalize yourself—to only reveal what fits the occasion, what serves the mission. But there’s danger in self-streamlining. You might become so efficient you forget how to feel.

Underneath it all, though, is a deep hunger to get it right. To speak with precision and kiss with purpose. To live in a way that aligns the mythic with the mundane. This square invites you to stop performing competence and start pursuing connection—with messy, glorious imperfection.

JULY 28—Venus/Chiron

This aspect is a transmission station for the soul. Venus, lyrical and elusive in Gemini, reaches out to Chiron, the wounded key-holder in Aries. Together, they form a channel for sacred speech, visionary seeing, and unspeakable knowing.

You may feel a rush of insight that words can’t hold. A vision too vivid for language. A truth so intimate it needs to be painted, danced, or dreamed. This is the ache of being just a little too awake in a world still half-asleep.

But there is power here. A promise. That if you find the right medium, the right vessel, the right vibration, you will transmit what matters. And others will feel it—not just understand, but feel—like a tuning fork struck in the bones.

This is a day to stop trying to explain your brilliance. Let it shimmer through you instead. Trust that your presence already carries the code.

JULY 30—Venus enters Cancer

And just like that, Venus softens. She trades her clever tongue for a quiet gaze, her flirtation for feeling. In Cancer, she curls into the shell of memory and listens to the echo of her own heartbeat.

Here, desire becomes devotional. What you want is no longer fast or clever—it’s ancestral, elemental, dripping with longing for safety, sweetness, and soul. This transit invites you to love like water carves stone: with tenderness, with time, with a touch that remembers.

Let yourself crave closeness. Let the walls dissolve. Venus in Cancer isn’t afraid of need. She knows that real love seeps through the cracks, fills the hollows, and teaches us how to be human again.

JULY VENUS THEMES•••

Venus this month shapeshifts across realms—she remembers the past, flirts with the future, dances with thresholds, and finally returns home to the holy work of feeling it all.

This is no ordinary love. It is metamorphic. Mythic. Multilingual. And if you’re brave enough to listen, it’ll speak through every heartstring you’ve ever tried to silence.

Love is not a destination—it’s the language of your becoming.

𓁿

MARS MOVEMENTS•••

JULY 20—Mars/South Node

Mars in Virgo is like a mechanic monk: obsessive, exacting, devoted to the sacred art of precision. Every gesture is meaningful. Every flaw is a clue. But when Mars brushes up against the South Node—the slippery archive of our karmic backlog—these energies stop being mechanical and start performing an exorcism.

This is no ordinary drive toward progress. This is a reckoning with why you move, how you move, and what ghost is steering the wheel…

The South Node doesn’t just ask for a history lesson. It drags you into the basement of your own inner factory, flicks the lights, and says, “Look what you’ve been building on autopilot.” And Mars, stubborn in Virgo, might still insist he’s doing it “the right way”—even when the parts don’t fit and the blueprint’s from 1883.

The great danger here? Self-consistency at the cost of growth. Acting out roles that no longer serve simply because they feel familiar. Mars wants order, but karma craves chaos if it means liberation. You may find yourself clinging to routines that worked once but now only serve to calcify the soul. Precision becomes prison. Efficiency becomes exile.

But here’s the medicine—when Mars dares to drop the manual, to trust the mess, to stop insisting everything be just so—then, and only then, can magic emerge… because the microcosm is aching to show you the macrocosm. The smallest task, when viewed through a spiritual microscope, becomes a galaxy.

Yes, it’s possible to infuse your most ordinary actions with extraordinary meaning—but only if you stop polishing the surface long enough to notice what’s crying out beneath.

JULY MARS THEMES•••

Mars in Virgo, conjunct the South Node, is an ancient ritual disguised as routine. It’s that moment when you realize your perfectionism is just fear with a spreadsheet—that your precision has been protecting you from your power.

This transit isn’t asking you to fix more. It’s asking you to feel more. To drop the scalpel and pick up the mirror. To see that sacred action doesn’t always look clean—it often looks like being cracked open and still continuing forward with grace.

You’ve followed the formula. You’ve perfected the process. But now you’re ready to unwrite the rules and let the divine mess take the lead.