angstoic.com Astrologer, Ang Stoic
Everyone reaches a point that can’t be uncrossed—and, rarer still, a wall that can’t be scaled. Survival begins the moment you own that truth, breathe, and learn to stay put.
Only days after the solstice—when the Sun seemed to halt time itself—the world turned strangely opaque. While you were sleeping, U.S. B‑2 bombers ghosted over the Persian plateau, unloading massive ordnance on eerily named targets like Fordo, Natanz, and Isfahan (nothing personal—just a pre-emptive caustic rinse of righteousness, allegedly to stop imaginary uranium-enriched isotopes from growing wings). Hours later, Tehran responded with “minimal-casualty” missile strikes on selected U.S. bases, while every state official and media outlet got busy churning out a wildly varying, increasingly psychedelic explanation.
If the Saturn‑Pluto conjunction of January 2020 felt like a steel trap about to snap shut, the current Saturn‑Neptune conjunction—exact early next year but already screaming volumes from 1°–2° Aries—is more like a walk through a carnival mirror maze: the walls slide, facts smear, and even your own reflection can’t be trusted. And it gets increasingly weirder. Pluto, retrograding in early Aquarius, sextiles that union—so the mirage before our eyes seems like it’s being bolted onto dystopian levels of technocratic infrastructure, another ominous instalment; a system upgrade from the shadowy apparatus born in 2020. For the latest report on the surreal developments of that grotesque machinery, please read my deep-dive Saturn‑Neptune article.
The Skies Right Now
Wednesday’s Cancer New Moon (25 June 2025, 10 :32 UTC) sits at 4°07′, shoulder‑to‑shoulder with an exalted Jupiter at 3°32′. Cancer rules what we guard as most personal: our children, home, precious heartwarming recipes, personal passwords, ghostly essences of our ancestral past… And Jupiter is a glutton for bigger & better—he exaggerates whatever he touches. The sweet sensation of rootedness can turn into a diabetic case of nationalistic verve, an after-dinner bloating in the chest cavity becomes a nostalgia so rich it cloys into homesick sentimentalism, with a fat side of mustering fellow villagers onto our side to stave off tribal siege. Under ordinary Cancer moons, we retreat to kitchens; under this one, we could barricade ourselves in them. Normally, I’d call that nourishing, but in a week of non-stop press conferences about getting behind patriotic lines, and all kinds of edited cockpit footage, the same swell easily flips into a siege-like mass-hysteria. I can warn against staying away from that, but you may feel instinctively drawn to folks that are “a lot like your kind”.
Complicating everything here is the cardinal square to Saturn‑Neptune in Aries. Saturn wants a chain of command; Neptune dissolves every rank and file, blurring every sense of authority into something that resembles an absurd clown posse. The biological body reads that contradiction well before the brain: a tight diaphragm, dreams heavy with (returning to one’s own) water-hole imagery, a jittery need to re‑check the pantry (or the newsfeed) every hour. There’s a fine line between protection and paranoia, and nothing seems more blurred these days.
Mars at 4° Virgo forms a sextile to the lunation and, through a pair of mirrored quincunxes, funnelling both luminaries, plus Jupiter, straight to Pluto’s jaws. It’s a textbook Yod: destiny hinging on the tiniest, most surgical maneuvers. Wash the spinach properly. Debug the faulty, self-sabotaging script. State the boundary without launching a full-scale congressional press conference. Pluto doesn’t mess around, won’t negotiate; it obliterates whatever’s been neglected. If this all sounds a bit abstract, that’s because the ghastly consequences of this delinquent level of ignorance won’t be announced—they’ll just happen. We’re all implicit somehow. We’re all invested in a pathological level of delusion, and rather than listen to clarity, we do our best to silence it, lest it disturb us from our two-thousand-year slumber.
And then there’s the peace-loving Venus, strong in Taurus, jamming the warlike Cancer–Aries tension by semi‑square. Everything has a price tag now: fuel, grain, affection. Pay close scrutiny to the full price of every investment before you moralise the purchase. It could be a lose-lose. Mercury in late Cancer, in sextile to the last‑degree Uranus, about to trine the Saturn‑Neptune reality fog, keeps information super volatile—double‑source before forwarding, or you could risk starring in your own disinformation loop, especially where (again) finances are involved. One gets the sense we are heading into a rocky path towards the markets.
Anyway, this is a messy, tangled conundrum—one you don’t so much analyse as absorb in your bones. It makes you want to shrink with misplaced confidence, hoard your hard-earned, squirrel it into a bunker, and sit like a lame duck while the series of bizarre chain reactions unravel—quietly hoping it all blows over without dragging you into the radius of its blast.
Blast.
What This New Moon Asks
Cancer is cardinal water; it initiates by feeling, not by theorising, proselytising and prime-time prophesying. So it’s a call to rein it in, start inside: notice which memories surface, which cupboards and emotional storage facilities feel suddenly inadequate, which arguments you’re rehearsing in the shower. Those are your Jupiter‑inflated signals. Refuse to catastrophise them—contain them. A contained feeling is usable fuel; a leaked feeling is propaganda, panic and mayhem waiting to happen.
If you set intentions at every New Moon, keep this one spare: make one pledge you can manage for the next four weeks—avoid launching into epic six‑month manifestos. Classical texts are clear: a lunation works on a single synodic cycle, and tonight’s sky is too volatile for oaths that need scaffolding, even for this month. Trust me. We will see a cavalcade of flip-flops before the Full Moon (massive protests are coming).
We’ve already crossed the Rubicon; the emotional wastelands behind us look ludicrous in hindsight—spent, untenable, faintly cartoonish. It’s impossible to feel sentimental. There’s no going back to any of that. Yet the opposite bank still feels impossibly far. And vague. So vague, it’s not possible yet to see what lies on the horizon. The only way across is moment by moment, resisting the urge to flinch or cower back to what’s familiar. That means choosing an intention that is unashamedly relational. Cancer is cardinal water: it thrives on shared shelter, not solo heroics. Name something you and another human can hold—a shared moment, free of phones, some sort of reassuring check-in—and treat that small covenant as your provisional life raft.
Subscribers, your Empowering Horoscopes are up, your provisional walk-through for each sign. Study it well, it will help:
- where this lunation hits your chart (house, ancestral trigger‑points),
- how to use Mars‑in‑Virgo rituals as pressure valves, severing the parts that have outrun their usefulness
- and which Jupiter‑amplified feelings are actually pointing you toward the next most meaningful alliance.
- fully synthesised reading of all significant planetary aspects, with pointed guidelines, putting you precisely in the picture to make the best intentions
Consider these as a star‑lit roadmap through the next four weeks of dithering headlines. Because the mirror maze isn’t going away yet, but you can learn where the real exits are.
ARIES: Cancer New Moon Reading
TAURUS: Cancer New Moon Reading
GEMINI: Cancer New Moon Reading
SCORPIO: Cancer New Moon Reading
CANCER: Cancer New Moon Reading
LEO: Cancer New Moon Reading
VIRGO: Cancer New Moon Reading
LIBRA: Cancer New Moon Reading
SAGITTARIUS: Cancer New Moon Reading
CAPRICORN: Cancer New Moon Reading
AQUARIUS: Cancer New Moon Reading
PISCES: Cancer New Moon Reading
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