“BROKEN GLASS”: The ARIES SUPERMOON at 14°♈08′ — Tuesday, October 7, 2025, 03:48 UTC

October 7, 2025 ASTROLOGY OF NOW, Cosmic Tribe Updates, Lunation articles 1 Comment

Greetings Fellow Travellers,

Two weeks on from the South Node Solar Eclipse at 29° Virgo, and the world has not brightened so much as become intensely darker, more divided. The light that has returned did not return kindly. October’s somewhat late harvest moon swells into the largest, brightest moon of the year—our first so‑called supermoon since November 2024—and it arrives not with ceremony but with the blunt, shocking truth you only see when the ambulance pulls up and someone finally gets taken from you. There’s a lot to unpack here.

We have just trudged, eyes still bleary, through a stultifying, ego-humbling pair of eclipses: the totally occluded Pisces full moon followed by the partially obscuring Virgo new moon—a harsh alternating current testing whether our faith and need for control are opponents or simply different faces of the same compulsion. Pisces asked us to trust what cannot be proven and let the great unknown and the unknowable do its quiet, divine work; Doubting Virgo demanded to see evidence, receipts, transcripts, statistics, the obsessive reassurance that facts will keep the roof from collapsing. Both lunations aligned to the nodal axis have somehow synchronised our personal story with the collective narrative, insisting that what we decide alone somehow registers on the seismograph of the world. Every soul matters in the course of our collective evolution. We are all, in some way, complicit in the direction of humanity.

Now, as the Sun crosses the Libra equinox into the social half of the zodiac, the contracts of coexistence return to the front of the desk. This is the season when our capacity to engage meaningfully with others proves directly proportional to the faith we place in them—trust becoming the only real currency of relationship. Under this Harvest Moon, the first full moon after the equinox, we see with unflinching clarity that we reap exactly what we sow. Yet that trust is hard to place with Neptune drifting back over the Aries Point, blurring the line between faith and fraud. Saints and zealots, mystics and charlatans all seem to shimmer under the same light.

And with Saturn back in Pisces, close enough to define Neptune’s overarching blur, the existential ache deepens. Certainty can easily seep away; faith can quickly evaporate to mist. It’s disorienting—literally grief mixing with disbelief, what’s left of the rational mind tempted to shut down and call it wisdom. There’s a narcotic comfort in hopelessness, in claiming you’ve seen too much to believe in anything. But Saturn, retrograde as he is, won’t let the spiritual numbness pass for mastery. Here, at the final stages of Pisces, he makes us sit inside the dissolution until we can tell the difference between genuine surrender and just giving up.

And yes—though we are technically post-eclipse—this first cardinal lunation feels like the closing chapter of a much longer movement. The Aries–Libra eclipse series that has gnawed at us since 2023 formally ended with March’s Aries solar eclipse, yet the questions it raised never left the room: how do we stop performing compromise long after it has become denial; how do we stop calling codependence “community” because we are terrified of owning our own autonomy. Is it our own? If not, do we truly own anything? Or are we owned?

If you needed one more sign that indecision, complacency, complicity and fence‑sitting have exhausted their alibi, take this Aries “Supermoon” as the formal notice. The season of people‑clinging is done. Action is necessary—even if, to begin with, it’s only a rash reaction. Better to lunge hard with a raw, violent cut than endure another round of ‘elegant paralysis’.

In The Wee Wee Hours: The Crack of the Full Moon

The Moon’s culmination at 14° Aries has no patience left. It’s the second before rupture, the meniscus at full stretch—one more breath and the long-banked fury spills like hellfire. This is the body’s appetite for the unedited line, the deep intramuscular memory of survival that refuses to wait another moment to be taken. Directly opposite, the Sun in Libra still presides, prising at proportionality, civility, justice by calibration and grace. But we’re sick of it. We’ve been teetering on ultimatums and trade-offs for too long. This polarity has trained our nerves to numbness, but tonight it stops being theory. It bursts into Sturm und Drang wherever we contort ourselves to avoid saying no; it flares at the dinner table where someone’s charm keeps strangling the one sentence that would make things real. It ignites the place where activism curdles into hostility and diplomacy into sheer terror. Aries shows how urgency erupts into aggression; Libra, how diplomacy calcifies into complicity and silence. Between them lies the bare question: can you stand to stay in this without extinguishing yourself?

“When did we see each other face-to-face? Not until you saw into my cracks and I saw into yours. Before that, we were just looking at ideas of each other, like looking at your window shade but never seeing inside. But once the vessel cracks, the light can get in. The light can get out.”
― John Green, Paper Towns

Under the supermoon’s glare, the shield of patience burns off fast. Every pretence turns brittle, every little white lie gnashes its teeth. Whatever we’ve paraded as spiritual tolerance has too often been the terror of exile dressed in white; what we’ve called due process is mostly the body buying time before it admits the truth. This fiery Moon won’t indulge it. If you’ve been bound to a person, a creed, a party, a cause—held there by guilt, nostalgia, or the faint narcotic romance of belonging—expect the inner infant to awaken and scream. And with ruler Mars in Scorpio, the severing won’t be operatic; it will be quiet, surgical, final. The courage required is not to attack but to stop consenting to shrink. To snuff the breath that keeps false senses of peace and tranquillity inflated. This cardinal Moon isn’t pressing you to be cruel; it’s daring you to leap into full-throttle voltage and let those built for dimmer lights quickly adjust or go blind in your wake.

Insurgency vs Contracts: Uranus–Juno and the hard‑angle rectangle

There is a tripwire stretched across the chart tonight, and it sings when the wind rises. Uranus retrograde at the first degree of Gemini stands opposite Juno just entered Sagittarius, and the line between them pulls taut over the Sun–Moon axis, setting up a volatile hard rectangle in the eighth harmonic—that intricate weave of semisquares and sesquisquares that rattle the hinges of any trap door, if indeed that trap resembles anything of a “binding contract” betwen two parties. Juno is sacred covenant—marriage, partnership, the social glue that keeps it together—and in Sagittarius, she demands vows that can travel, promises that grow rather than petrify. Uranus in early Gemini is the insurgent mind—the rebel intellect that refuses to let language become a cage, insisting that true loyalty exists only where learning and speech remain free.

Now add the nervous prods: Sun sesquisquare Uranus—the diplomat’s composure short‑circuits; Moon semisquare Uranus—extra radicalisation to the gut won’t wait; and you have the relational field fizzing with mismatched expectations about loyalty, commitment, boundaries, domestic policy, the subtle economics of who adapts and who is forever “understanding.” Minor squabbles mask deeper breaches. The instinct to run is strong. So is the temptation to clamp down hard with edicts and laws and call it “care”. Neither will do. What the rectangle demands is the awkward, lucid conversation where the contract is re-read in the language of the living—where “forever” is translated as “with room to keep becoming”—where fidelity stops being a museum job and becomes stewardship of two evolving lives stepping toe-to-toe in the forever-present tense.

Do not underestimate the octile family. Those 45°/135° kicks are cumulative. They accrete as the humming unease that wakes you, again, every hour, on the hour, and usually at an hour you’re least up for it. They are the itch beneath the plaster, the tap‑tap‑tap that becomes the crack. Under this figure, you will see through all the scripts that only function if you remain the “good one”: any partnership glued together by your perpetual apology; the slightest movement that feeds on denunciation; the family system where dissent is treated as betrayal, and “peace” means playing along to avoid conflict. The rectangle refuses to play exorcist for you. It will keep rattling until you take the key to unlock the demon you have always owned.

Custodians and cutters: Venus, Malefics and Benefics

Venus in Virgo—that endless striving for moral purity through service—now meets the South Node, and with the malefics closing in, the lesson bites. Saturn in Pisces, applying a tense watery sesquisquare, tests the limits of sacrifice: how long can devotion hold before it sours into self-betrayal? Mars in Scorpio, from the shadows of another water sign, presses with surgical precision, cutting at whatever cords still bind love to obligation. Together they expose the trappings of virtue—how easily the nobility of “duty of care” becomes the currency of enslavement, how quickly humility turns to bondage. You can’t buy freedom by being indispensable. If you can’t stand alone, you’re still owned. Yet from another watery sector, Jupiter in Cancer sends a soft, sustaining sextile, reminding that solitude need not mean scarcity: the well refills when you stop drawing from others’ rations. The entire configuration demands a forced reconciliation between service and servitude, between love freely given and love begged for or martyred. Stand still long enough in that silence and you’ll hear it—the sound of a leash finally dropping to the floor.

The Subterranean/Supernatural Mind: Mercury–Pluto; the yod to Uranus/Neptune; the outer string shifting the era

Mercury entering Scorpio turns the chat into an interrogation room. He’s the CIA code‑breaker, the brain-surgical scalpel. Squared to Pluto in Aquarius, your private thoughts feel data-mined by the technocratic mainframe—platform oligarchs, underlords of supreme surveillance by algorithmic wiretaps on your every keystroke. At the same time, Mercury is squeezed into a yod between Uranus in Gemini—Artificial (or is it Alien?) Intelligence, hijacking language at machine-learning speeds, while Neptune in Aries gaslights at the ♅/♇ midpoint, a slow erosion of self until nothing reads as ‘yours’. But hang on… can intelligence truly become property?

We’ve been living through this for months—and will for many more—as the process grinds on, slow and exacting, until every fragment of culture, myth, and magic is pared down and repurposed into a different world altogether. Between the mental shock, pulverisation and blur, Mercury’s brief is brutal and clear: trace every thought to its natural source, sever the pre-written script, reclaim your own tongue. The work is to dig beneath the feed for an uncorrupted signal—not to float above the system, but to slip inside it and reclaim the circuitry from within. Retrieve the thought before it becomes hacked and monetised; speak from somewhere uncolonised; cut through the static with words that still bleed human. Or perhaps our human intelligence is already evolving—toward a higher frequency, imperceptible by any machine—the language of telepathic empathy, where meaning travels without interference or detection, heart to heart, beyond digitised code.

Trojan Horses, Broken Hegemons and Twisted Faiths: Chiron/Eris, the geopolitical mirror, and the choice that will not wait

Between Chiron and Eris, the midpoint of Aries is a wound that won’t scab. They sit there, retrograde and restless, pulling at the oldest thread in the human fabric—the quarrel between injury and pride, justice and revenge. This is not abstract pain; it’s ancestral, fossilised, written into scripture and bone. As Jupiter slows in Cancer, preparing to station square to their conjunction throughout November, the pressure swells across generational dynasties and tribes, reviving those myths we thought were long forgotten – ones that explain who deserves land, whose god approves which cruelty, who must die for whose promise. This square exaggerates everything: faith becomes law, law becomes blood-libel, and the firstborn son is once again offered up to prove a father’s devotion.

The metaphor is biblical because it follows a biblical pattern. The story of Abraham, shared and disputed by all three Abrahamic faiths, still frames the world’s most devastating irony: that reverence for divine authority can demand the sacrifice of one’s own offspring. Judaism, Christianity, Islam—each claims a higher mercy, yet each inherited the same perversely incomprehensible trauma script: that loyalty to God must be validated through the suffering of the innocent, the offering them up to demonstrate our faith to a patriarchal deity. Jupiter’s square to Chiron and Eris presses that bruise, forcing every civilisation raised on that myth to admit what it has done with it. The wars we wage over holy ground are not new conflicts; they’re reruns of a test of obedience that never ended, a ‘holy edict’ that western humanity has never had the courage to refuse or defy. Those who try it become martyred.

As the headlines continue to stream in from the Middle East, we see the myth re-enacted in real time—tribes extolling ancient wounds as moral licence to provoke murder, leaders invoking divine right while civilians vanish under rubble. The supposed “rules-based order” continues to fracture under its own hypocrisy. The United States, exhausted hegemon, can no longer distinguish deterrence from delusion; its outposts and satellites cling to the moral geometry of empires long dead. Meanwhile, the majority of the world continues to call for proportion, international law, a ceasefire, and sanity—and is being blindly ignored. The Aries lunation amplifies this impasse. Jupiter in Cancer stirs nationalist sentiment and the ancestral memory of a homeland, while Chiron–Eris in Aries weaponise grievance; one promises belonging, the other demands scorn and vengeance.

Inside that bizarrely incomprehensible global theatre, our personal experiences mirror the political. The exact same psychological machinery also drives our private wars. Each of us has our own tribe, our own holy scripture, the sacred stories that we tell about our own exiled ancestry. Very few of us can claim indigeneity without some pain. Under this October sky, Mercury in Scorpio sifts through the wreckage of collective thought like a forensic analyst, seeking to uncover how our most deeply recessed ideas mutate into obsessive orders and paranoid delusions. Its square to Pluto in Aquarius exposes the new priesthood—technocrats and machine-learning algorithms coding fresh commandments. Uranus in Gemini scrambles organic language into alien new forms; Neptune in Aries, at their midpoint, warps perception until conviction blurs into hallucination. And we? We’re left to wonder whether the voice demanding sacrifice is divine, digitally programmed, or simply deranged.

This is where the astrology stops being metaphor. It’s already happening: the fusion of ancient zealotry and algorithmic surveillance, of sacred text and coded bias, of priests replaced by programmers who don’t even believe in souls. The rage of Eris finds new delivery systems; new golden apples; new Trojan horses. The wound of Chiron gets data-mined for profit. Jupiter’s impending station ensures that everything blows up—belief, propaganda, and transgenerational guilt—until we either reclaim the story or drown in it.

I need to warn that from this point on, the ethical dilemmas become increasingly acute. Every action under this lunation carries a heavy moral drag: do you speak, or does speech amplify noise? Do you resist, or does resistance feed the algorithmic rancour? Neptune’s return to Pisces (Oct 22) could spark a new spate of witchhunts. The heavens don’t give a clean answer, only a warning. Chiron and Eris are unmasking the Trojan horses of faith and technology alike—how both surreptitiously smuggle domination inside the promise of salvation. Even Judaism, once a vessel for spiritual endurance, is being hollowed out and repurposed as cover for Zionist conquest, just as other creeds (Democracy, Capitalism, Progressivism, etc) are being conscripted to sanctify their own empires. Jupiter’s square drags these hypocrisies into daylight, forcing belief itself to stand trial for what’s done in its name.

Expect tense weeks ahead—politically, spiritually, psychologically. Expect decisions made in such haste and fury that can’t be walked back. This is not a time for passive hope or righteous certainty; it’s a time to look directly at the myths we’ve inherited and ask whose children they’re still demanding. The Moon in Aries will not negotiate; she moves swiftly, blade in hand. And as she passes over that wounded conjunction, the air itself feels charged with an epic reckoning of biblical proportions.

Whatever we do under this light—whether we protest, defend, retreat, sacrifice our firstborn, or reach for grace—will resound far beyond intent. The old gods are watching through the eyes of new machines. Act only in ways you can live with when the feed goes dark and there’s no one left to applaud or absolve you.

Below, these latest horoscopes trace where the Full Moon showdown lands for each sign. Think of them less as forecasts and more as comprehensive pressure maps—showing where individual autonomy demands expression, where old, codependent contracts snap, and where faith must precipitate into action. Each sign meets the same challenge in a different house, a different theatre of awakening. Read both your Sun and Rising, and note where the tension refuses to be outsourced. The Aries Full Moon shows where you will not negotiate—where pretext burns away until only your true motive remains. If you love my work, you will love these, and your subscription is a chance to show your support.