There’s a kind of vertigo in this moment—a dizziness, a weightlessness, like the ground itself is slipping out from under me. The past tugs at my spine, whispering of roots, of lineage, of places that should feel like home. But the future is calling too, loud and insistent, telling me I can’t stay tethered to anything that keeps me from moving lightly, from slipping through the cracks of what was into what will be.
This New Moon in Pisces, this vast flood of water in my Fourth House, is drowning the definition of home I once held close. I reach for something solid, but my hands close around mist. I try to plant my feet, but the ground turns to liquid. Home is dissolving.
A part of me wants to fight this. Wants to resist the pull, to build something sturdy, to stake my claim in the soil that once belonged to my ancestors. I imagine staying, growing deep roots in a place that remembers me, that I remember too. I can almost see it—a house, a life, a version of me that stays. But even as I hold the image, I feel it disintegrating. A mirage, a dream I’m waking from.
Because there is another part of me—wilder, lighter, less burdened—who knows this is not my path. Who knows the coming era will demand movement, adaptability, the shedding of excess weight. To stay would be to hold onto something that is already slipping away. To resist the tide that is already rising. And Pisces always wins.
Maybe you feel this, too. Maybe something you once thought was permanent is beginning to loosen its hold. Maybe the ground beneath you is shifting, not in an abrupt, catastrophic way, but like sand slipping between your fingers—slowly, inevitably. And you are left wondering: Do I hold on, or do I let it go?
I have to surrender. But this surrender is not soft. It is not peaceful. It is a ripping away, a peeling back of old layers, a letting go that feels like a freefall.
Saturn is here too, pressing into this dissolution, making it real. The weight of responsibility clashing with the demand for release. Saturn says: Build something lasting. Establish something real. But Pisces whispers: Nothing is real. Not in the way you think.
And then there’s Jupiter in Gemini, shouting from the sidelines, filling my mind with counterarguments, possibilities, contradictions, until my thoughts are tangled knots and every certainty I reach for unravels in my hands. Too much information. Too many ways to spin the story.
Maybe this is the test. Not to figure it out. Not to decide. Not to force clarity where there is only fog. But to let the current take me where I am meant to go.
I believe to establish. That’s the mantra. Not because I know what’s next, but because I have to trust the ground will appear when I step. That home is not a place, but a presence within me—a knowing that wherever I go, I belong.
So I let go. Not because I want to. Not because I’m ready. But because I must. Because the tide is rising, and I was never meant to stay where I am.
And maybe neither were you.
While reading this breaks my heart, I know that you need to follow your own path in life and at the end of the day your happiness is what’s most important to me. I was hoping that your roots would stay planted here, but sadly that does not appear to be your journey.
Yes, the sands are shifting. With Pisces 9th I learned a few years ago when injury plucked me from a teaching job I loved. I embraced returning to astrology and herbalism but now find myself exploring other deep avenues. Sometimes I feel so scattered- and time disappearing- small daily tasks consuming the day . So the message I hear from beyond (Sun in Pisces) is to be gentle with self and stay heart centered. That, above all, is what we are asked to do for now. All we really need to be. Thank you for sharing.