A Night of Transformation
Hello, dear one. Tonight, under the light of the Lunar Eclipse in Virgo, I feel called to reflect. While the eclipse officially occurs tomorrow morning here in Berlin, the moon has already begun to rise, and its energy is already shifting the world around me.
There is something powerful, potent, and deeply emotional about this moment. This eclipse feels like a portal—one packed with grief, release, and transformation for many of us.
Virgo, a sign known for observation, articulation, and analysis, does not take things lightly. With this momentum to purge, clear, and complete unfinished cycles, I also feel drawn to something just as essential:
Rest. Flow. Surrender.
The Urge to Do More, and the Invitation to Rest
Today, I worked non-stop from 8 AM onward, caught in a frenzy of tasks—pushing, completing, striving. And yet, despite my effort, by the end of the day, I still felt as though I hadn’t finished what I wanted to.
Does that sound familiar?
There is something about Virgo energy that demands completion, that urges us to check every box, to perfect every detail. But tonight, I remind myself—and perhaps you, too—that there is no need to reach perfection.
Not now. Not ever.
We are already enough. The work, the effort, the growth—it is already immense, full, and worthy.
Grief and Joy: Holding Both in the Same Breath
While working on my website today, I found myself meditating on my relationship with grief—something I think many of us are being asked to confront under this eclipse.
Grief is not something we simply move past.
It is not something to fear or to hide from.
And it is not something to carry alone.
To go into grief does not mean to go into solitude or to suffer in silence. Instead, grief is the moment where we allow ourselves to be held, supported, and deeply seen—while also acknowledging pain, loss, and transition.
And here’s something I have come to know with time:
When we allow ourselves to fully feel grief, something unexpected happens.
A new kind of joy emerges.
Not the kind of joy that is purely happy—but a joy that can hold pain within it. A joy that is bittersweet, but full of truth. A joy that is rooted in acceptance.
This kind of joy is one of the most beautiful articulations of existence—where we learn to hold space for ourselves, for our past mistakes, for our own becoming.
Phoebe Bridgers, Marfa, and the Power of Endings
Tonight, I found myself listening to Phoebe Bridgers’ song, “I Know The End.” If you’ve heard it, you know—it is a song about endings. And at the very end, she is screaming, wailing, releasing.
There is something divine in that moment.
It reminds me of a time in my life—years ago, in Marfa, Texas—when I was in a relationship that wasn’t healthy. We loved each other deeply, but our trauma fed resentment, and our anger fed cycles of destruction.
Leaving that relationship was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
It was grief. It was release. It was death in its own way.
But I sat with that grief. I let myself feel it. I called upon community to help me. And in that letting go, I stepped into a deeper truth of who I am.
And every time I have had to let go since then—whether of a person, a home, an identity, a past version of myself—it has always brought me closer to something real.
Becoming Friends With Grief
I don’t know if I would call myself an expert in grief.
But I do know this: I am friends with it.
And that is more than I can say of most academic scholars.
If there is anything I can hope for you, it is this:
Whatever you love, whatever you seek to articulate, may you also be willing to make friends with it. Not just study it from afar, not just analyze it, but walk alongside it, honor it, and let it become a part of you.
Grief has loved me back in many ways.
Perhaps that is the secret we aren’t often told—
That grief is not just an ending.
It is also a portal.
The Magic of Release: A Message for This Eclipse
This Lunar Eclipse in Virgo, alongside Venus Retrograde in Aries and Mercury soon to turn back, is here to cradle you into the next moment.
So take a breath.
Look at what you’ve been clutching onto with so much pressure.
And let it go.
What is meant to be yours will return in a new way—
In a poem. In a painting. In a lover. In a city you have yet to visit.
Let it become something beautiful.
Let it go.
And pay attention to what stays. That is where the real power is.
A Final Blessing
I am sending you my love, my respect, my adoration.
And above all, I wish you peace. I wish you rest.
May you choose your rest when the invitation arises.
Because we all deserve that.
Until next time,
Katy Laurel