Generally speaking, I love Sagittarius season. Not for the same reasons I love summer (you could not pay me enough money to go swimming in the ocean right now), and not even so much because I love Christmas. I love Sagittarius season for much less tangible reasons — reasons that, sadly, can feel harder to tap into right now, given the chaos, uncertainty, and violence around us.
What is it about Sagittarius season that I love? Ironically, it’s the indescribability of it: the moments of mystery and presence that seem to flit just out of awareness in the same instance that I notice them. (Is it really any coincidence that Western cultures associate miracles with the holidays of December?)
We’re not living through a December that feels especially miraculous, though. It seems nearly everyone is living through some version of stress, fear, disorientation, grief, anger, burnout, digital disconnect, and so on.
How many people are praying or wishing for a miracle right now? How many are despairing completely that the miracle they need will arrive?
And yet… and yet: we are miracles. Sorry to be cheesy. I don’t mean to sound unforgivably sentimental or woo-woo.
But even if you simply think about us in terms of biology, chemistry, physics, geology, and astronomy, it’s fucking astonishing that we’re here on this particular planet, in these bodies, with these minds and feelings and senses, in this particular solar system of the Milky Way galaxy, at this particular moment.
You’re not some speck of rock on Mars. You’re not some atom of hydrogen in the thin atmosphere of an exoplanet orbiting a star in a far corner of the universe.
You’re you. Here. Now.
“Here, now” is a pretty uncomfortable place for so many, to put it mildly. It’s violent for too many, and feels safe for too few. Being you might be painful lately, or might not make much sense. Maybe you don’t feel like “the real you” or like the world we’re living in is solid enough to engage with on a regular basis.
Yet you are here. And I don’t think that’s an accident.
What if you’re better equipped for this moment than you think you are? What if those moments when you recognize your burnout, your anxiety, your depression, your paralysis, your general confusion and stress, are actually reminders that you have not lost yourself to them yet?
What if those moments are not signals that you’re “lost” or “losing,” but rather signposts showing that you’re in a position to ask for help in seeking a way through — and to receive it?
I don’t want to minimize in any way the loneliness and despair that you or anyone else may experience during the holidays. It is real, and can feel absolute. (If this describes you right now, please, please call or text the 988 hotline or call a warmline if friends and family are not an option.)
I am, however, curious how the isolation and loneliness that we could ascribe to our collective position in the universe can be flipped on its head: you can look at this little speck called Earth and be overwhelmed by how different we are from so much of known space…or you can revel at how many amazing things are keeping us company on this planet and in this universe.
That, I think, is a big part of what I love about Sagittarius season. I suspect I usually feel it so keenly because my natal Moon is aligned with the center of our galaxy: there’s this sensation I can’t articulate very well that tends to accompany astrological events aligned with that part of late Sagittarius. Even just the Sun passing through that zone (which is really Earth passing through that zone, but whatever — astrology is an Earth-centric art) has a certain vibe for me.
I’ll try to describe it anyway. It’s a lot like when I’m faced with an incredible work of art — a profound piece of literature or theater, visual art, music, etc. — and even though I don’t know exactly what it means, I can feel that it means something. There’s a palpable frisson that piques my curiosity at the same time that I sense the answer lurking just above or below or behind me; each time I try to turn my mind toward it, though, it flashes out of sight.
I can still sense it, though. It kind of feels like “yes,” even when I was not aware of asking a question.
Yes.
I’m not sure I’ve ever thought of Sagittarius season as a “yes,” but I think maybe that’s why I love it. It feels like a symbolic yes: yes, I belong here; yes, the mysteries are beautiful; yes, we are alone and separate — yet also interconnected and interdependent and in this together.
Astrologers often describe Sagittarius people as tending to be philosophical, unattached to material things, and optimistic. True, the shadow expression of Sadge can be an attachment to dogma, “freedom” for its own sake, and self-righteousness. But at its best I think there can be a genuine openness to letting what has proven false fall away, so that perception and understanding can continue to expand.
Moving on from what does not work and is not true: that’s the “no” that gives the cosmic “yes” of Sagittarius any meaning at all. Deciding what you do not want is part of what gives weight and momentum to moving toward what you do want. The more you can do what affirms life — even if that simply means keeping yourself present, fed, clothed, and offering some kindness and support to others — the less room there is for what is false, narrow, pessimistic, unkind.
The Sun is making its annual conjunction to the Galactic Center now, exact on Wednesday, Dec. 18. But I have a confession to make: I haven’t quite found my typical zone of ineffable Sadge-magic this year. It was elusive last year, too.
It wasn’t until reworking this piece that I put the pieces together: last year Neptune in Pisces was only a couple degrees from making an exact square to the GC while the Sun was there. This year, that square is exact.
A Sun-Neptune square often describes a low-energy phase, both physically and psychologically. People typically feel discouraged and prefer to avoid confrontations when this dynamic is activated between the current astrology and their natal chart.
Now, I’m not saying that Neptune is “causing” me to feel a little detached from the GC’s vibe. But it does offer a perfect correlating image.
Yet a Sun-Neptune square can also indicate an infusion of idealism. The key is to recognize the gap between one’s ideals and reality, and take it as an invitation to work with “what is” in moving toward “what could be” — rather than bypassing the real world entirely.
Which, in a way, also looks like an invitation and opportunity to allow some space for the mystery of just how much we’re part of…the mystery: of being alive and conscious, now, on Earth, in the Solar System, on a far edge of the Milky Way. It looks like an opportunity to try shifting perspective, to see an astonishing level of connection in what appears to be isolation. To know that you are perfectly at home in the middle of a mystery, and that everyone here is in it with you.
What choices can you make to be a partner with that? What ripples are you ready and willing to send out, and to receive in kind, like the light and radio waves from some other, distant galaxy?
Even if the only ripple you can manage right now is to wake up again tomorrow to try again, that is enough. That is “yes.” And I’ll be glad to hear you echo that affirmation in the form of your being here.
With love,
Amanda
If you find yourself in crisis this holiday season (or anytime), please call or text the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988. The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is free, confidential, and available 24/7.
Additionally, NAMI offers a state-by-state “warmline” directory for less acute emotional support here.
P.S. If I can support you through the current changes and uncertainty with an astrological consultation or some soul work sessions, please get in touch. And if you enjoy these horoscopes or find them helpful, you’re welcome to leave me a tip here as a form of energy exchange. Thank you for reading!
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