angstoic.com Astrologer, Ang Stoic
“Free speech is unthinkable. All other kinds of freedom are permitted. You are free to be a drunkard, an idler, a coward, a backbiter, a fornicator; but you are not free to think for yourself.” ~Orwell
Greetings, fellow travellers,
I’ll be honest with you. It’s getting harder to show up here and pretend we’re just chit-chatting about planetary weather.
The holidays are rolling in again – the neighbourhood house shrouded in fairy lights, credit cards slinging (mostly online these days), that whole annual performance of good cheer and season’s merriment while something heavy drones on beneath it all. Peace on earth, goodwill to men, but please don’t look too closely at the warmongering shitshow that’s gradually sapping the life-force out of you and everything you’ve built.
I’m tired. Not the sleep kind. It’s the kind where you’ve seen the pantomime one too many times, and now all you notice are the wires pulling at the marionettes that bring the story to life. Maybe you know what I mean. Maybe that’s why you’re here.
This Gemini Full Moon lands right on that point of exhaustion. Gemini is the information – the repetitive feeds, the headlines, the endless scrolls, the delivery system by which data travels. Sagittarius is the meaning we’re desperate to make from it all. And right now, with Saturn and Neptune liquefying through the last degrees of Pisces, the space between information and meaning has become a kind of no-man’s-land where almost anything can hide.
There’s a deeper friction here, too. The North Node in Pisces has been pulling us toward surrender, toward faith, toward releasing Virgo’s obsessive grip on facts and details. That’s the evolutionary direction – away from the anxiety of analysis, toward something more intuitive and whole. But this lunation cuts directly across that axis. Gemini-Sagittarius is at odds with Virgo-Pisces. The Full Moon insists we deal with information and meaning right now, even as the nodes implore us that the real work is learning to relax, let go of the need to know at all. It’s a mutable cross, and we’re pinned to it – caught between the call to discern and the call to dissolve.
I don’t want to tire you out with a long-winded analysis on the astrology; I have appropriately reserved that specifically for your individual horoscope messages. But let’s walk through the greater questions around this together. I don’t have all the answers. But I’ve been pulling at this thread for thirty years, and I think it leads somewhere worth going.
Here’s something we forget: humans have always dreamed their way into explaining things they scarcely understand. It’s what separates us from the other species. Not that we dream, but that we have the means to communicate them, and from them come up with stories. Sometimes those stories are true. They hold meaning and provide purpose. But for the most part, they’ve been pure illusion. We are a species that is hallucinating.
Not clinically, of course. Epistemologically. For most of history, we knew almost nothing. A dark little village, a vast horizon, above a handful of stars, some hand-me-down stories from the elders. That was the whole world. Everything else – why the crops failed, why the baby died, what those lights in the sky were doing – we made up. We had to. The gap between what we could empirically observe and what we needed to understand was so vast that we filled it with gods, monsters, and authoritative nonsense about kings and their respective kingdoms.
This is the Gemini-Sagittarius problem in its oldest form. Gemini pinpoints the dots. Sagittarius tries its best to draw a line between them, form symbols, make up stories, then call it truth. But when the dots are sparse, that line is mostly an invention. A rough estimate, at best. Mostly projection. Mostly, whoever holds power to be convincing is the wise-guy telling everyone else what mysteries the darkness contains.
Civilisation after civilisation has risen on a central story about what connects the dots, then burned itself down when the story turned out to be wrong. The Church told us the Earth was the centre of everything. The Soviets insisted history was on their side. Every empire has been absolutely certain about something that wasn’t true, and the certainty itself became the instrument of living cruelty, and the fundamental fallacy in their tale the cause of its demise.
What changed – slowly, painfully – is that we started identifying more dots. Telescopes. Microscopes. Printing presses. Telegraph wires. Computers. Sophisticated machine-learning algorithms that now produce powerful stories. The arc of darkness between data points began to narrow. Not disappear entirely, but narrow. Enough so that occasionally we could catch the old stories in their lies.
And that’s the core tension of this Full Moon: we’re the first generation to live with an almost obscene quantity of data, more dots than any generation before us. And still, the space between them is being fought over by people who would very much like to keep filling it with their preferred fictions.
The grand water trine that’s been running beneath this lunation tells the story exactly.
Mercury in Scorpio: the obsessive, the investigator, the one who digs like mad to find a way through the darkness. Jupiter in Cancer: the emotional weight of what gets uncovered, the way it connects to family secrets, national myths, ancestral silences. Saturn in Pisces: the institutions that built their authority on controlling the narrative, now floundering as the waters rise around them.
You’ve felt this, even if you couldn’t exactly name it. That prickling sensation when the official story is just slightly too smooth to stomach. That nauseating sensation when the headlines shift, and everyone pretends they didn’t say the opposite six months ago. The body knows before your mind catches up. Mercury has passed over this degree three times now, thanks to his retrograde – drilling the same point, refusing to let it slide. That’s Mercury in Scorpio trine Jupiter in Cancer trine Saturn in Pisces. That’s the water signs doing what water signs do – arriving at knowledge through feeling, refusing to hold down what doesn’t land right in the gut.
For over a century now, the institutions that claimed authority over the dots – intelligence services, legacy media, the academic establishment – have understood that controlling information is easier than controlling territory. Vet the journalists. Seed the talking points. Promote the useful spokespersons. Destroy the inconvenient.
In Britain, we saw the long-secret vetting of BBC staff by the intelligence organisation MI5. The institutional protection of Jimmy Savile – not through incompetence, but because he functioned as a useful spider in the web, collecting secrets, ensuring complicity. Across the Atlantic, Jeffrey Epstein: mysterious wealth, a private island, guest lists including presidents and princes. These aren’t merely “perverts with money.” They’re living nodes of a leverage network, ensuring everyone powerful has something to lose if the wrong stories dare to emerge.
When such figures cease to be useful, they’re removed. Savile died draped in honours; it was only afterwards that his crimes were acknowledged. Epstein died under circumstances so implausible that “Epstein didn’t kill himself” became global shorthand for “we’re not idiots.” The exposure is real, but late. The damage is done.
The grand water trine tells this perfectly. Mercury in Scorpio: the investigator who can’t un-see discrepancies. Jupiter in Cancer: tracking how nations have always weaponised secrets. Saturn in Pisces: institutional structures now floundering in waves and waves of liquefying seas, their credibility collapsing.
The Gemini Full Moon shines directly on this machinery. It exposes the splice in the edit to conveniently modify the narrative, repeated across supposedly rival channels until it becomes a belief system. But it also illuminates something else: the more we, as individuals, gather our own points of reference – cross-checking, archiving, comparing what was said then to what’s being said now – the harder it becomes to fill the gaps with lies. Each of us becomes a node in a different kind of network. And the denser that network grows, the narrower the arc of darkness becomes.
Think about the phrases we’ve been dished up over the past twenty years. “Weapons of mass destruction.” “Russian collusion.” “The lab leak theory is racist.” “Israel has the right to defend itself.” “Safe and effective.” “Assad gassed his own people.” “The border is secure.” “Russian bounties on American soldiers.” “The laptop is disinformation.” “Trust the science.” “The adults are back in charge.”
Each one arrived pre-packaged, repeated across every outlet within hours, designed to connect the dots for you before you had a chance to look at them yourself. Each one carried an implicit threat: question this, and you’re a conspiracy theorist, a bigot, a traitor, a danger to democracy. These weren’t arguments. They were state-sanctioned incantations – meant to stop inquiry, not invite it.
And one by one, they’ve unravelled. The WMDs didn’t exist. The collusion was a fabrication. The lab leak is now the leading theory. The laptop was real. The science was selectively cited. The border was not secure. The “defence” became a years-long campaign of annihilation broadcast live to our phones. We watched the dots accumulate into clusters, in real time, and still the CNN anchors read the teleprompter without blinking.
Something has broken that can’t be repaired with another fact-check or another “expert” explaining why we didn’t see what we saw. The gap between the official story and lived perception has become so wide that the old techniques of narrative control are failing. People don’t trust anymore – not because they’ve become cynical, but because they’ve been lied to so many times that their nervous system won’t let them.
I want to tell you something personal, because I think it matters.
I’ve worked as an astrologer since the 1990s. Seeing clients, doing the work, watching charts line up with events in ways that still, after all these years, make me catch my breath. And for most of that time, I’ve had to hide it. Keep it dark. Dress it up in respectable language or simply not mention it at all.
Astrology has always been expelled from the inner court once it stopped serving power. Medieval kings kept astrologers close because timing and foresight are dangerous gifts. Once the Church and early scientific establishments achieved their own authority, they cast astrology out as a threat to their monopolies on revelation and reason. The antipathy lingers. Anything that claims to tell truths outside the authorised channels is treated as inherently suspect – not because it’s been tested and found wanting, but because it threatens someone’s monopoly on the gaps.
Try putting “astrologer” on a mortgage application. Try explaining to your bank manager that this is a legitimate profession with a lineage older than his institution. I got laughed at. Shamed. I learned early that the same civilisation that trusts bishops and bankers treats what I do as somewhere between a mental health joke and a threat to power. To be allowed through the doors, I had to humbly pretend to be someone else. Take the grey jobs. Deny my ability to speak my truth, practice my craft openly. Kill myself slowly in cold, dark warehouses or in fluorescent-lit offices. Pay the rent with my soul.
Some of you know exactly what I’m talking about – not about astrology specifically, but about whatever true thing you’ve had to hide to be taken seriously. That gap between what you know in your bones and what you’re permitted to say out loud.
What changed for me was Neptune entering Pisces in 2012. The boundaries had begun to dissolve. Social media meant I could speak directly to whoever wanted to listen, without asking permission from the gatekeepers. I built my site, wrote what I actually thought, and slowly – then suddenly – the thing that made me unemployable became the very thing that feeds my family.
Not because the institutions changed their minds. It’s because thousands of random people happened to come upon my work on their phones, felt in their bodies that what I was saying was true. They chose to keep tuning in, listening. The gatekeepers weren’t consulted.
That’s Neptune in Pisces at its most subversive. The checkpoints between the old temples have blurred beyond definition. Forbidden knowledge has leaked back into the commons. People can ask questions again. Of course, the same flood that frees the mystic also brings the grifter to the surface. Social media is awash with cult leaders, fantasists, and industrial-scale disinformation operators. People who once would have been contained by geography and local law now broadcast incognito to millions, convinced that every gap between the dots must be filled by their pet theory. Flat-earthers. Self-anointed messiahs. Single-cause explanations for everything. And you’ll have noticed that our capacity to tolerate this and still pick out what’s real is hitting its threshold.
The line between visionary and lunatic is no longer policed by institutions. It is policed – for better or worse – by our individual discernment.
As the tools become more sophisticated, that reality is frankly terrifying. But it is also honest. For the first time in centuries, we are being forced to decide who to believe, instead of having the answer dictated to us by whoever controlled the gates. And if you look at this clearly, you realise the revolution – or rather, the series of revolutions, each one beginning in the mind – has already begun.
Which brings me to the part few people wish to contemplate: what if, in some very specific ways, AI is actually good news?
Stay with me.
We’ve spent this whole piece talking about how humans tend to fill the gaps between dots with their hallucinations. That’s not a bug – it’s what minds do when the data is sparse. Every civilisation has done it. Every ideology, every religion, every scientific paradigm that later turned out to be proven wrong. We can’t help it. We don’t like the inexplicable. It disturbs us. When we don’t know, we make something up and believe it.
AI does the same thing. When the training data is thin, it hallucinates – generates plausible nonsense to cover the gap. Sound familiar?
But here’s the difference: AI is being actively developed to hallucinate less. The whole thrust of the technology – like the thrust of human knowledge itself across millennia – is toward denser data, tighter pattern recognition, fewer gaps that need to be filled with invention. And as the dots multiply and cluster, the space between them shrinks. There’s less room for the old lies to hide. Meanwhile, each of us walking around with a little black mirror in our palm has become a data-collection point – an ever-growing node feeding the network with gigabytes of information daily. We are the dots now, whether we like it or not.
I’m not naive about who currently controls these tools. The same interests that built institutional blind spots around swamp creatures like Savile and Epstein would love nothing more than an AI that hallucinates on command, in their favour, forever. That’s one possible future – the Orwellian Ministry of Truth in your pocket, customised to your emotional vulnerabilities, drip-feeding you the approved story directly into your nervous system.
But there’s another possibility. What if the arc of darkness actually closes? What if we’re building something that gathers so many dots, so densely, that the ancient game of gap-filling finally starts to fail? What if the technology that terrifies us is also the thing that makes large-scale deception harder to sustain?
I don’t know which future we get. This Gemini Full Moon doesn’t answer that. But, as the next several of its kind begin to include Uranus in this sign, it insists we at least entertain the question. And it suggests that the exhaustion you’re feeling – that I’m feeling – might not be the end of something. It might just be the birth pangs of a way of knowing that doesn’t depend on anyone’s permission.
Here’s where I land, after thirty years of pulling at this thread:
Stop waiting for an oracle, a new world leader, a divine saviour. There isn’t one coming – not a news anchor, not an algorithm, not an astrologer. The dots are everywhere now. The tools to connect them are multiplying, and soon, as Saturn and Neptune converge at the Aries Point, they will demand to decentralise. The old gatekeepers are flailing. What happens next depends on whether we learn to think for ourselves or just hand the job to whoever shouts loudest.
Let your Gemini side stay curious, but train it to check sources. Let your Sagittarian side seek meaning, but make it concede when the story no longer fits the facts. Listen to your Piscean spidey-sense of disbelief when something feels off, even if you can’t yet prove why. And accept that you’ll hallucinate in the gaps – we all do – it’s what you do once you notice you’re kidding yourself that actually matters.
The archons of myth and narrative have lost their monopoly. Try not to feed them. The waters have risen. The arc of darkness is narrowing, point by point, whether they like it or not.
And you – tired, awake, still here on this glorious full moon night– are now learning how to swim.
I’m glad you’re with me.
Until next time, stay with it.
ARIES ♈ | TAURUS ♉ | GEMINI ♊ | CANCER ♋ | LEO ♌ | VIRGO ♍ | LIBRA ♎ | SCORPIO ♏ | SAGITTARIUS ♐ | CAPRICORN ♑ | AQUARIUS ♒ | PISCES ♓
In this fortnight’s instalment of horoscope messages, I show you where the universe is slipping you the pill. You know the choice. Blue and you wake up tomorrow still comfortably numb, scrolling the same feeds, nodding along to the same story. Red, and you see how deep the Hasbara-style machinery goes – and you don’t get to unsee it.
The Gemini Full Moon axis cuts across the epistemological delivery system, your axis of information and belief. Whatever houses it lands in for your sign, that’s where the choice is being made. Mercury, ruler of this lunation, has been drilling the same Scorpio degree three times over, completing a Grand Water Trine to Jupiter in Cancer and Saturn–Neptune in Pisces. Your gut has been trying to tell you something for months. This Full Moon is when you finally have to listen.
Uranus at the Taurus–Gemini threshold is the glitch in the matrix, as Mercury opposes that, it becomes the jolt that cracks the screen. Jupiter’s square to Eris in Aries picks at the wound: who owns the narrative, and what happens when you stop swallowing it. Mars conjunct Juno in Sagittarius, grinding against Saturn in Pisces, forces a reckoning in every contract you’ve made – with partners, with institutions, with your own beliefs – about what you’ll still stand by when the official story collapses. Cutting through the abstraction of transits, we determine precisely the coordinates of your next move.
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ARIES ♈ | TAURUS ♉ | GEMINI ♊ | CANCER ♋ | LEO ♌ | VIRGO ♍ | LIBRA ♎ | SCORPIO ♏ | SAGITTARIUS ♐ | CAPRICORN ♑ | AQUARIUS ♒ | PISCES ♓
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Ang Stoic is renowned not just for his searing accuracy, but for his empathetic, personalised approach and deep astrological expertise, guiding clients through major life transitions—career changes, relationship upheavals, Saturn returns, midlife crises, and other pivotal phases. With his penetrating insights and warm, supportive style, he empowers you to transform challenges into opportunities for growth and self-discovery.
