The Midlife Crisis in the Polycrisis
Why everyone I know in their early 40s is being taken apart at the same time
I always figured I would outsmart the proverbial ‘midlife crisis’.
You know the version I mean. The new red convertible in the driveway. The guy who leaves his wife and starts wearing leather. The motorcycle, the affair, the sudden shreds of electric guitar floating down the lines of cubicles. As a young person witnessing adulthood, the whole thing looked to me like what happens to people who spent twenty years doing boring corporate, American Dream-style work that they were told they were supposed to, and then woke up one morning with no idea who was living in their house.
That was never going to be me. I got out early. I was a traveler, an artist, a philosopher- someone who went looking for what I wanted before anybody could tell me what to want. I have been examining my own life more or less continuously since my teens. I read my own chart. I saw the future. The whole point of doing that work early, I thought, was that you get to skip the part where the crisis comes for you at forty.
Boy, was I wrong.
It came for me anyway, and it came exactly on schedule- a schedule kept by the outer planets Saturn, Pluto, Neptune and Uranus. nd knowing the schedule turned out to help with approximately none of it. It arrived as a divorce at thirty seven, suddenly leaving a life I had spent years building. It arrived as a baby on my hip, single motherhood, a feeling of free-falling through space and the laborious work of disentangling from a relationship I could no longer stand to be in. I wish it could have been a red convertible and an electric guitar.
What I have learned since is that the midlife crisis is not a character flaw or a failure of self-knowledge. It is a set of transits that teach you about your biggest blind spots. And they come for everyone, on a timetable, whether or not you have been paying attention or believing you’re above them. Being awake for it changes what you can do with your newfound inner wisdom, but it does not get you out of the dirt.
Which brings me to this month.
I can’t tell if July felt like it lasted 20 years or a blink of an eye, but the most anticipated astrological month of 2026 has already come and gone. Despite having no childcare and lots of cats to juggle and a few family wildcards, I fared pretty ok. I’m still feeling the juice in my veins after running that midsummer race.
For me, though, this year’s peak frequency was never going to be July. August 2026 has been waiting for me since the moment I was born.
Eclipse Season is Beginning…
A lot of people already have Wednesday, August 12, circled on their calendars- and it has nothing to do with me.
It is the day of the big solar eclipse, the first one in 9 years to happen on the Leo-Aquarius axis. The nodes moved to the lion and water bearer’s domain from Virgo & Pisces just a couple weeks ago, so our collective hunger (and our collective drain-pipe) are dramatically shifting gears. The Virgo-Pisces eclipses have been all about releasing perfectionism and over-achievement, and bringing a deep global hunger for spiritual healing. Integrating the two has encouraged us to bring our most ethereal dreams into the minutiae of the day-to day.
And now, that polarity is shifting to focus on the tension between what one person burns for and what the collective needs. August 12th is the first solar eclipse on the new axis, and it is in Leo, on the south node, sitting near Regulus, the star of kings. The Leo-Aquarius eclipses, which run through 2028, will be focused on the tension between individual ego vs. collective community, releasing a need for external applause, and integrating authentic self-expression with the wider webs of humanity.
Eclipses on a fresh nodal axis tend to set the collective tone for the eighteen months that follow, so a lot of people are watching this one.
Underneath that, also on August 12th, is something fewer people are tracking. The Barbault Basket already had its exact moment back on July 19, when the outer planets (Pluto, Neptune, Uranus and Jupiter) all sat at 4 degrees and the whole internet turned to look at it. French Astrologer Barbault’s astro-mathematical method is the one that called the fall of the Berlin Wall and the pandemic long before they happened, so when the basket formed, people who track collective cycles were paying attention.
That exact moment of those 4 degree sextiles has passed, but on August 12, the same day as the eclipse, it gets a Frankenstein moment and comes back to life- this time with even more harmonics. On the 11th, Venus arrives at 5 Libra and closes the basket into a five pointed star.
And then on the same day too, the asteroid Ishtar - the Babylonian face of the goddess Inanna- steps out of Scorpio into Sagittarius and joins the minor asteroid Sauer (known for the sixth point of the Grand Sextile, which almost nobody is talking about. I became truly enamored with Inanna’s myth of descent and return/feminine power years ago, and she has come to me again and again this year in dreams and in art and in my work. On August 12th, the minor asteroid named after her (she orbits between earth and Mars) lands in the same sign and gate as my natal Jupiter and Uranus. This is the first of several reasons this stopped being an abstraction for me.
So depending on what celestial bodies you take into consideration (asteroids or not), August 12th will form a pentagram a 6 pointed star (with a grand fire trine between neptune, mercury, and the asteroids and a grand air trine between Pluto, Uranus, and Venus.) I mean, just look at this:
So the eclipse everyone has circled is also the day the basket becomes a closed and complete shape- a full wheel of sextiles, with the androgynous/nonbinary messenger god Mercury and the goddesses Venus and Ishtar (one and the same, really) coming in to disrupt the council of sky gods. wheee!
But this isn’t the reason I have the date circled twice… it’s also my exact Uranus Opposition.
The same afternoon all of that comes together, transiting Uranus in Gemini arrives at the exact opposition to my natal Uranus in Sagittarius. This is THE midlife transit, the reliable one, the one that eventually finds every single person who lives long enough. Uranus takes eighty four years to go around the sun, so at age 42 it sits directly across the Zodiac wheel from where it was when you took your first breath.
My natal Uranus is conjunct with Jupiter in Sagittarius, so it’s a double whammy of expansive oppositions for me. Plus, transiting Uranus is in Gemini sitting on my Chiron, so old wounds are being illuminated… hopefully in order to be healed.
Whats even more wild is that on the same day of August 12th, this first Leo solar eclipse lands in my first house, right in the tight space between my natal Venus and my natal Mars. I don’t even know where to begin….
So basically the planet of disruption and liberation will be opposing itself, opposing my Jupiter, and conjunct my wounded healer, while the eclipse itself will be happening right in between two of my most personal planets….. on the day the collective sky completes one of its rarest shapes.
And honestly, I wouldn’t be writing this down if it were only mine.
The three Midlife Crisis Transits that we all experience- in order
There is a sequence of outer-planetary transits that show up for people in their late thirties and early forties, and it runs in a particular order.
Transiting Pluto squares its own natal position first: the Pluto Square. Then Neptune squares its own: Neptune Square. Then Uranus opposes its own: the Uranus Opposition. For me, those landed at roughly ages thirty eight, forty, and forty two, spaced almost evenly. The spacing is worth noticing, and I will come back to why.
Ages are shorthand, though. The outer planets move slowly enough to retrograde over the same few degree two or three times before they finally clear it, so what looks like one date on a calendar is closer to a year and a half of the same energy passing through, retreating, and arriving again. That is why you can be deep inside one of these transits for a long stretch before you have any name for what is happening to you.
I’ll tell you a little tale of my midlife transits, with my upcoming Uranus opposition as the grand finale.
Pluto square came for me first, and he brought Saturn and Jupiter along to the demolition derby.
My natal Pluto sits in Libra, in Human Design Gate 50, and my natal Saturn lives right there next to it. So when transiting Pluto came around to square my Pluto from Capricorn in 2020, it was squaring both my Saturn and Pluto at once. That was an especially intense time for me (I mean it was for everyone- 2020, right?) but especially for me because transiting Jupiter AND Saturn AND Pluto were all in the same part of the sky that year - in Gate 60, the Gate of Limitation. This was a triple whammy of planets squaring my double whammy of structure, boundaries, and the underworld. FUN. And Libra to Capricorn is a cardinal square… which is the impatient kind. Cardinal is initiatory- it arrived all at once and stood there waiting for an answer.
Gate 50, where my natal Pluto and Saturn live, is the Gate of Values, aka The Cauldron. It is the gate of holding, of being the one who keeps stirring the pot on the fire for everyone else. Gate 60, where Pluto and Saturn and Jupiter (and Mars too, right when the lockdown started in March) were hanging out in the sky in 2020, is the gate of accepting our Limitations. It’s the gravity that holds you down once you reach the mountain top and want to keep climbing. It’s the hard edge you cannot get around and have to build from instead. So transiting limitation was squaring off against my instinct to hold everything and keep stirring the pot, because that’s what I had inherited- that’s the way it had always been done.
My Pluto square was a generational cycle-breaking event.
In real life that looked like a series of underworldly events- a breakup, a freefall, a divorce. It looked like leaving a company I had built, and leaving the city I’d created a life in for over a decade and returning back to my hometown- with a little baby on my hip and no clear plan. My natal Pluto in my fourth house was having the lights turned on in every corner of a relationship and family dynamic that had been living in the shadows up until that point. Fourth house is home, family, and the ground under the floor. And Pluto square spent about two years down there revealing and excavating what had rotted underneath the foundation.
Neptune came second. Neptune wasn’t a flashlight into the basement, but a seeping fog.
Without much time to process Pluto, my Neptune square was close on it’s heels.
My natal Neptune is in Sagittarius, Gate 11: Ideas. Transiting Neptune squared it from Pisces, Gate 36: Crisis (dun dun dun…). Both of these are mutable signs, so compared to the shocker of Pluto’s cardinal square, this midlife transit had no edges at all. Nothing to push against. Just fog.
Gate 11 is the Sagittarian gate of Ideas- the vast expanses of possibility that reach for the galactic center (which is also located in this gate). The fifth line, where my Neptune lives, is the heretic- the one who has to take an idea and translate it for people who didn’t ask for it. Gate 36 is crisis, emotional intensity. Transiting emotional crisis, squaring my capacity to make sense of things for others.
This square ran from my fifth house to my ninth, which is dreamy self expression and creativity on one side and higher education/meaning making on the other. For about two years as Neptune squared my natal placement, I could not tell you what I was here to make. I would sit down to work or create and lose the thread of why. Underneath that were the ongoing custody changes and battles, the drifting calendars, the multiple households with a toddler, and the question of what kind of mother I was going to be in a life I had not designed and was still in disbelief about. Neptune isn’t as surprising as Pluto, but is much soupier- a churning sea where the moments of sunshine carry a reminder that you might get sucked under again any minute. Which is worse in some ways, until you learn how to swim.
Uranus is here now… and Uranus is loud.
My natal Uranus and Jupiter are both in early Sagittarius, both in Gate 34: the Gate of Power. Jupiter is in the fourth line and Uranus is in the sixth. Now transiting Uranus is in Gemini, in Gate 20. This is a mutable activation again, and this time an opposition, running from my eleventh house to my fifth.
Gate 34 is all about power. Raw, undirected force, where the sacral center pushes and activates with no instruction attached. Gate 20 is the Gate of the Now. It is the only gate in the wheel with no delay built into it, no gap between the impulse and the moment.
20 and 34 are across the wheel from eachother, and also connect to eachother in the bodygraph, which is rare- only 3 channels in the bodygraph are also polarities.
The 20-34 channel is the Channel of Charisma, which means this transit on August 12th is doing something more complex than just opposing. It is completing a channel in my body, a Self-Projected Projector who has no sacral definition of her own. This is a manifesting channel running from raw sacral power straight up to my voice, in a body that is used to having to ‘wait for the invitation’.
And Uranus is slow moving, so this is not a single afternoon of manifesting generator power. It came into range earlier this year and it will still be there next year, moving back and forth across the gate as Uranus stations and turns. August 12 is where it goes exact, and the rest of it is a long season of having access to something I was not built with. This is the sort of thing that only becomes clear when you look at the detail of the gates rather than the planets and signs alone, and it is most of why I keep doing this work.
What this opposition has felt like so far (TBD about the exactitude) is an enormous upwelling of creative energy with a very short fuse on it. Everything I have been slowly assembling for years, through the Plutonian rupture and the Neptunian fog, has started demanding to exist immediately. And because transiting Uranus is also sitting on my Chiron in Gemini, the demand is specific. It’s saying “Bring it down to earth. Make it usable, make it conversational.” The vision has to come out of the loft and into something a person can hold in their hands.
That is most of what this year has been for me, sitting down and building the things rather than describing them.
Fire and air
As I approach this Uranus opposition with far more consciousness about these things than I had when going through my Pluto and Neptune activations, I’m giving myself a lot of grace. I’m connecting with myself and with the elements more, with the relational energies I bring to this work. I went to a Temescal sweat-lodge ritual yesterday that my friend facilitated, and had an opportunity to really drop in with water, fire, earth and air.
My natal Jupiter, Uranus, and Neptune are in fiery Sagittarius in my 5th house, a house naturally ruled by fire-sign Leo. My Mars and Venus are in Leo in my first house, a house naturally ruled by fire-sign Aries. I’m a Leo rising, ruled by the sun.
That is a lot of fire, and my whole adult life I have understood myself through it. Burn bright, be seen, warm the room.
And there are a lot of planets in Fire right now, too, feeding the flame. But the other outer planets are in Air, and that’s an element that’s a little more unfamilar to me consciously. Uranus in Gemini, Pluto in Aquarius, and the North Node now in Aquarius. Lots of air blending with all that fire.
Air is what fire eats, and air is also what carries fire past its own edges. It lifts the embers up and sets them down somewhere the original burn never reached. Air is pollination, larger weather patterns, and smoke that crosses state lines.
That is the shift I have been feeling and did not have language for until recently. The fire has been mine, a personal heat and personal brightness kept close to my own hearth. The air element opposing my fire is asking that heat to leave the hearth and travel, spreading that warmth as I go. And it’s asking do so safely, in a way where no one gets burned.
The eclipse on the 12th falls in Leo, in my first house, on the south node. It lands in Gate 4, the Gate of Formulization, and it happens in the gap between my natal Venus and my natal Mars, both sitting there in Leo in that first house. So the eclipse is threading itself right between the part of me that wants to be loved and the part that has the drive to go get things, and darkening the space in the middle for a few minutes.
Gate 4, Formulization, is a mind gate, a 3rd eye gate. It is all about formulating a possible answer under pressure before anything has been tested. Its I’Ching name is Youthful Folly, which might read harsher than it truly is meant. I see it as the acknowledgment that our minds will offer an answer whether or not there is one, and that offering an answer too early is how people truly learn. So the eclipse is darkening this tendency of valuing formulaic thoughts, answers, completions to the cycle of confusion and illumination. It’s in my first house, in the corridor between what I want and how I go after it. If I have been trying to reason my way to a formulation about who I am now, after these five years of midlife transits kicking my ass, this is the sky taking that away for a while.
My read is that what this eclipse will take away- for all of us, but especially those with planets in Leo/Gate 4, is the premature version. The stories we have been assembling about what all of it means, before we’ve finished living it out.
South node eclipses are release points. It’s like someone turns the lights off, and when they come back on the furniture is not where you left it and nobody checks in about whether you approved. There is a karmic settling to them. Mine is landing on my identity, on the first house, on the fire I have built a self out of. My read is that it leaves the brightness alone and takes the part of me that needs to feel closure and completion while I burn.
Are you experiencing midlife transits too?
All of this would have stayed a diary entry, except for the timing.
If you were born somewhere between 1982 and 1988, there is a good chance you are somewhere in this same sequence right now. Pluto square in your late thirties, Neptune square around forty, and Uranus opposition around forty two. The exact timing shifts depending on where your own outer planets sit and how fast Pluto was moving the year you were born, so the years are approximate. But the order holds for most of us, and the window is roughly forty to forty four.
That clustering is a feature of this particular stretch of time. Uranus is the metronome, so the opposition around forty two holds steady for everybody in every era. Neptune is close to steady too.
Pluto is the one that moves. Its orbit is a long ellipse around the sun, and it is currently in a faster-moving part of that ellipse, which is why our Pluto square is arriving in our thirties. For people born when Pluto was in its slow signs, that square arrives much later in life, and for some of them it does not arrive inside a lifetime at all. So the three of these outer planetary-to-birth chart transits landing evenly spaced across five years, right in the middle of adult life, is specific to the time when we happened to be born.
That means that there is a specific cohort of people, right now, being taken apart and taught lessons by the outer planets in the same order at roughly the same age. The true nature of your foundation is exposed first, then any meaning that is not solid dissolves completely, and then a surge of creative, liberatory force arrives that will not wait.
And meanwhile… the polycrisis
The word that is now commonplace for what the larger collective world is going through at this moment is polycrisis. Edgar Morin coined it in the nineties. Jean-Claude Juncker picked it up around 2015 when he was trying to govern Europe through the Greek debt crisis, Putin’s first move on Ukraine, Brexit rumbling underneath, and Syrian refugees arriving all at once.
Adam Tooze is the one who made polycrisis stick, writing about a moment where the shocks were no longer arriving one at a time and no single explanation covered them all. The part of his framing I keep thinking about is that the crises interact, so the whole becomes heavier than the sum of its parts.
Look at this summer. We’ve got horrific heat and fires that keep breaking their own records, with smoke drifting down out of Canada and sitting over American cities for weeks, and researchers still revising upward what long exposure to that smoke does to a person’s body. The political situation in the United States that keeps testing what the guardrails were ever for. The genocide in the Middle East that has ground through civilian life for years without an ending. Data centers going up by the hundreds to feed the AI build out, drinking water and power from communities that were never asked and will not see the returns. The standard cost of living almost everywhere is outrunning what a working life is able to cover. And the fake news idea that we used to laugh about and get enraged about is now our default mode of operation- people are no longer arguing from a shared set of facts.
None of those reduces to a single cause and none of them has a single fix. If you pull a lever on one, you’ve likely moved something in two others that nobody was tracking.
The polycrisis is the master’s sprawling plantation house - it simply cannot be dismantled with the master’s tools.
And this is where the midlife crisis meets the polycrisis.
The people currently getting dismantled by this three-transit sequence of outer planetary initiations are the same people currently holding the world together. We are the ones in the middle of careers, raising the young children, caring for aging parents, running the small businesses, keeping the schools and clinics staffed. We are being stripped down to the studs personally, right on schedule according to the planetary gods. And they’re breaking us down in this succession at the same moment the collective structures we are inside of are also being completely taking apart.
On a hard day that feels like being hit from both directions with nowhere to put your feet.
On a good day, it looks like preparation. It looks like… we are the ones we have been wating for.
What I went through with Pluto took away my ability to keep believing something about my own life that had stopped being true years earlier. Neptune took away my boring certainty about what I thought I was here on this planet for. And now, Uranus is handing the power back to me from the present moment and making it very hard to use it the old way.
If you had told me before these transits what they would feel like, I would not have chosen any of it. But I am far better equipped now than I was at thirty six, and I am not the only person my age who would say that.
Maybe that is only the story I need to tell myself to keep going, and I want to be honest that I cannot prove any of it. But it does seem worth noticing that a lot of us have spent the last five years learning from the inside that the bottom is a real place with a floor in it, at exactly the moment when knowing that has become imperative.
Inanna, and the floor
I’m channeling Inanna as my guide as her asteroid meets my Uranus and Jupiter in the Gate of Power, at the exact same time as my midlife opposition.
Inanna went down through seven gates to see her sister, queen of the Underworld. At each one she had to remove something she wore, an emblem of her authority and power. First her crown, then her jewelry, then robe, until she stood in front of her sister completely naked and was hung on a hook to die there. The story is not gentle about it. She is dead for three days.
What gets her back is other people. Her handmaiden Ninshubur, who had strategic instructions from Inanna before she left, goes and asks for help until someone listens. Two small mourning creatures are sent down who do nothing except sit with Ereshkigal and grieve with her while she is in labor and in pain. That is the whole rescue - somebody keeps their promise from above, and somebody sits with the grief below. Only when this is done is Inanna released- and she comes up to the Great Above from the Great Below with real power, the power of descent and return- not the false sense of power she cloaked herself in and went down with.
I have been living inside that story for over five years. My best guess is that I am now somewhere on the stairs, ready to ascend. Some days I am less sure, and I think that uncertainty is part of the climb. I do know it’s not my last time in the underworld, but it’s not a place I’m afraid of - or turning a blind eye to- anymore.
What it looks like from here
I keep coming back to my garden. It is August here at my seven thousand foot desert home, and the monsoons have come in, finally. Everything that looked finished in June, all that silvery grey and dry and holding in the plant world, is now greener again inside of a week. None of the dry part was dying. It was waiting, with more discipline than I have had at many times of my life. And with the rain comes flashes of lightning where we can see everything clearer, if just for a moment.That’s the most real thing I have to offer anyone reading this while the fires burn and the news stays mind-bogglingly offensive and filled with grief.
If your own Pluto or Neptune or Uranus activation is doing its work on you, remember that dormancy and death look identical from the outside for a long time. What is being taken apart in you during this half-decade was never the whole of you, and the same is true of what is being taken apart out there in the larger world.
There is beauty in the Great Below. Once we realize that the descent is part of life and stop running from it, the natural cycles will continue to bring us back up to the light.
Right now, six celestial bodies are closing in on a beautiful sextile-star in the sky. On the day the moon covers the sun, this is a structure that holds steady while the eclipse clears out attachments to old formulas. I am choosing to read that as a promise, and I know that it is a choice.
If you are in a midlife transition too:
The old cliche what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger is definitely overused- most of the time it gets used to excuse something that should not have happened. But there is a real version of it underneath, and I think my generation is currently proving it out.
We’ve gone down to Pluto’s domain and had our foundations excavated. We’ve drifted through Neptune’s vast seas and lost our certainty about what we were here for. And now Uranus is running current through the whole scenario- the earth and the water and the sky- and handing the power back with a different quality. Three different kinds of undoing, one after another, in five years, and hat comes out the other side of that is a person who has survived the loss of the things she thought she could not live without, and who now knows from the inside that the bottom has a floor in it.
That is not just resilience, which to me just feels like going back to the shape you were. It is closer to what Taleb called anti-fragile, the property of a thing that gets stronger from being handled roughly. A whole cohort of people, right now, in their late 30s and 40s, becoming truly harder to break.
Gen X went through the same order of planetary initiations a little earlier in life. Xennials and millennials are in it now. But it does not hold forever. Pluto is slowing down as it moves through Aquarius and into Pisces, and for most of Gen Z the sequence reshuffles entirely. For them, the midlife transits begin with a Neptune square around forty, Uranus still at forty two, and then Pluto arriving much later, in their fifties (along with their Chiron return), long after the first two have finished. Their midlife will have a different shape than ours does, and their descent will come later- that’s a story for a different article.
Which means this particular arrangement, three undoings stacked into the middle of adult life, belongs to us. It is what we were handed, and I have come to think it was handed to us on purpose, at this moment, for this. There is no one else coming. The people who were supposed to have the answers for us are visibly out of them. And the ones standing in the gap are the ones who spent their thirties finding out that everything can be taken and the sun still comes up. It’s time to stop looking up to the podium and turning our gaze toward our own beating hearts.
A crisis is a place where something has to change- and where the change is finally possible. I think it goes without saying that we are standing in a lot of crises at once. But there is opportunity in that. Every person around my age who has rebuilt a life from nothing already knows how to do the thing the world is about to require of everyone. We know in our bodies how to let a structure fall that was never going to hold it’s shape. We know how to sit in the not-knowing for a year and a half without turning to mush. We know how to start over with a baby on our hip and no plan, because a lot of us have already done exactly that.
That is not a small skill set. That is precisely what a civilization needs from the people in their prime when the old arrangements stop working. And there are millions of us, all arriving at the far shore of this passage at the same time. Thinking of all of these powerful nodes of midlife-initiated ones realizing their power makes me feel all tingly inside.
We are the ones we have been waiting for, which is a line older than any of us, and it has never been more literally true than it is for the people going through these transits right now.
If you want to look at your own…
I’m excited to be offering a couple of new reading types:
1. Midlife Transit Readings:
Ninety minutes exploring your personal mythology of descent and return, discounted from my usual rate because I want more people going through this window to have this. We go through all three: your Pluto square, your Neptune square, and your Uranus opposition, with the houses and gates each one moves through and the dates they are/were live for you. This works if you are in the thick of it now, or if you can see one coming and want to know what it is going to ask of you in the future. Or if you are on the other side and want to look back and find your own myth inside that re-birth canal. Most people arrive knowing something enormous happened to them and having no map of it, and that is what this reading is for.
Astrocartography Readings & ELA Map:
Astrocartography is the practice that took hold of me when my Pluto square catapulted me back to my hometown after eighteen years away. When the ground goes out from under your life you find out fast that your specific relationship with place is a huge variable in the equation. I have been doing a lot of these readings lately, and helping people find the meaning in their own lines is my favorite work right now. The app my partner and I just launched last week, ELA Map, is free to use, so you can go look at your lines today, and I am here when you want help reading them.
En fin…
I do not know what is coming. Not for me next Wednesday, and not for any of us over the next few years. Nobody truly does, and I have stopped trusting anyone who says otherwise.
What I do have is a set of tools for zooming in on the lesson while I am still down there in the muck - which is the time the lesson is truly of most benefit.
That is the whole of what I am offering here. There is a way down that we can either fight with or learn how to swim, and there is a way back up to the surface. And if you learn to ride the waves and meet your depths, you can come back carrying a different kind of power than you went down with.
Thanks for reading, friends. The odds are ever in our favor.
Have you experienced your Uranus opposition yet? Let me know how it felt for you!