New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse (Virgo)
September 21, 2025 3:54pm ET / 12:54pm PT
***See below for full details by rising sign***
The New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse in Virgo at 29° just sent your soul’s screenplay back with notes: cut the people-pleasing subplot, lose the fake deadlines, and give your main character an actual arc.
You’re not being punished. You’re being recast. The Virgo Eclipse isn’t subtle, and it’s not asking. This is the final scene rewrite of your personal drama—and if you’re still winging it through your healing journey like a sleep-deprived intern with no script, good luck surviving the third act.
The Eclipse at 29° Virgo is the cosmic equivalent of a network exec storming into your dressing room mid-monologue to say, We need better choices. It's the last degree, the final say, the moment the universe throws the script on the floor and says, Do it again, but mean it this time.
This isn't your big break—it’s your big accountability check. Let’s go:
You keep calling it a transition period but the Eclipse sees right through your six-month procrastination arc and wants to know where the actual character development is.
29° Virgo doesn’t do subtle foreshadowing. It does cold edits in red ink. Everything you’ve been vague about—your job, your health, that fake relationship with potential—is getting revised or deleted entirely.
If you've been playing the role of The Reliable One™ while silently falling apart offscreen, congratulations: the Eclipse just handed you a rewrite where boundaries are required.
That recurring scene where you self-sabotage just before the breakthrough? Virgo wants that cut for time. It’s repetitive and we’ve seen enough.
This eclipse is dragging your perfectionist villain origin story into the light—and you can either drop the just one more tweak excuse or get written out of your own life.
No more glamorizing burnout. No more humble-bragging about overdelivering. No more mistaking chaos for passion. The Virgo Eclipse wants systems, not suffering.
That dream you keep shelving because the timing’s not right? The Eclipse says the timing will never be right until you stop waiting to feel ready and start acting like you’re already on set.
You don’t need a new affirmation. You need a new routine that doesn’t treat your well-being like an afterthought.
You're not a background character in someone else’s story, you're just acting like one. Virgo is giving you one final script note: take up space or be cut for pacing.
Eclipse at 29° means karmic plotlines are either closing or climaxing. If it feels like you're stuck in a montage of déjà vu, it's because you missed the emotional memo the first time around.
Every fake deadline you set for your glow-up? Virgo sees the timeline manipulation and calls it out. You’re not late. You’re afraid of being seen mid-process.
The Eclipse doesn’t care if you’re exhausted. It wants to know why you're still taking direction from your inner critic instead of your actual values.
If you’re still improvising through shadow work without setting intentions, it’s giving student film—not Oscar-worthy transformation.
Virgo doesn’t want perfect. It wants alignment. And that means scrapping the plotlines where you keep performing someone else’s idea of success.
The apology you’ve been mentally drafting but never sending? This lunation says: send it—or rewrite the story where you pretend you were never the villain.
This Eclipse is high-stakes. Final scene. Final cut. If you’re not willing to be seen making mistakes in real time, you’ll never be ready for the version of you who’s done pretending.
Your healing arc isn’t just a side plot anymore. It’s the whole damn point. Virgo says cut the filler and show some growth.
That closet of metaphysical avoidance techniques you've been hoarding? Yeah. The Eclipse is staging a divine intervention. Say goodbye to the crystal that was just collecting dust and guilt.
You can’t manifest a new chapter while hoarding expired scripts. Toss the timelines, the comparisons, and the Pinterest board of a life you’re too scared to start living.
29° Virgo doesn’t do rehearsal. This is opening night. You’re either walking out in your truth—or getting eclipsed by your own avoidance.
Your life’s script just got rewritten—what scene are you finally ready to shoot? Drop it in the comments, follow for more Cosmic Power Struggle Comedy, and book a reading to see where the eclipse just hit your chart like a plot twist.
Impact by Rising Signs
♈️ Aries Rising
The New Moon Solar Eclipse in Virgo at 29° just opened a feedback form for your entire life—and your 6th house of habits, health, and service is being dragged in the comments. Your daily routine isn’t just under review; it’s under reconstruction. If you’ve been confusing martyrdom with work ethic and self-neglect with being a team player, this Eclipse is here with divine clarity and a very loud clipboard. This isn’t just a second chance—it’s a final scene rewrite, and the notes say stop romanticizing being overwhelmed
You’re not being punished. You’re being recast. The Virgo Eclipse isn’t subtle, and it’s not asking. This is the final scene rewrite of your personal drama—and if you’re still winging it through your healing journey like a sleep-deprived intern with no script, good luck surviving the third act.
The Eclipse at 29° Virgo is the cosmic equivalent of a network exec storming into your dressing room mid-monologue to say, We need better choices. It's the last degree, the final say, the moment the universe throws the script on the floor and says, Do it again, but mean it this time.
This isn't your big break—it’s your big accountability check. Let’s go:
You keep calling it a transition period but the Eclipse sees right through your six-month procrastination arc and wants to know where the actual character development is.
29° Virgo doesn’t do subtle foreshadowing. It does cold edits in red ink. Everything you’ve been vague about—your job, your health, that fake relationship with potential—is getting revised or deleted entirely.
If you've been playing the role of The Reliable One™ while silently falling apart offscreen, congratulations: the Eclipse just handed you a rewrite where boundaries are required.
That recurring scene where you self-sabotage just before the breakthrough? Virgo wants that cut for time. It’s repetitive and we’ve seen enough.
This eclipse is dragging your perfectionist villain origin story into the light—and you can either drop the just one more tweak excuse or get written out of your own life.
No more glamorizing burnout. No more humble-bragging about overdelivering. No more mistaking chaos for passion. The Virgo Eclipse wants systems, not suffering.
That dream you keep shelving because the timing’s not right? The Eclipse says the timing will never be right until you stop waiting to feel ready and start acting like you’re already on set.
You don’t need a new affirmation. You need a new routine that doesn’t treat your well-being like an afterthought.
You're not a background character in someone else’s story, you're just acting like one. Virgo is giving you one final script note: take up space or be cut for pacing.
Eclipse at 29° means karmic plotlines are either closing or climaxing. If it feels like you're stuck in a montage of déjà vu, it's because you missed the emotional memo the first time around.
Every fake deadline you set for your glow-up? Virgo sees the timeline manipulation and calls it out. You’re not late. You’re afraid of being seen mid-process.
The Eclipse doesn’t care if you’re exhausted. It wants to know why you're still taking direction from your inner critic instead of your actual values.
If you’re still improvising through shadow work without setting intentions, it’s giving student film—not Oscar-worthy transformation.
Virgo doesn’t want perfect. It wants alignment. And that means scrapping the plotlines where you keep performing someone else’s idea of success.
The apology you’ve been mentally drafting but never sending? This lunation says: send it—or rewrite the story where you pretend you were never the villain.
This Eclipse is high-stakes. Final scene. Final cut. If you’re not willing to be seen making mistakes in real time, you’ll never be ready for the version of you who’s done pretending.
Your healing arc isn’t just a side plot anymore. It’s the whole damn point. Virgo says cut the filler and show some growth.
That closet of metaphysical avoidance techniques you've been hoarding? Yeah. The Eclipse is staging a divine intervention. Say goodbye to the crystal that was just collecting dust and guilt.
You can’t manifest a new chapter while hoarding expired scripts. Toss the timelines, the comparisons, and the Pinterest board of a life you’re too scared to start living.
29° Virgo doesn’t do rehearsal. This is opening night. You’re either walking out in your truth—or getting eclipsed by your own avoidance.
Your life’s script just got rewritten—what scene are you finally ready to shoot? Drop it in the comments, follow for more astrological insights, and book a reading to see where the eclipse just hit your chart like a plot twist.
♉️ Taurus Rising
Your 5th house of joy, romance, creative risk, and embarrassing dance solos just got a script edit—and no, they did not appreciate your I’ll wing it approach to fulfillment. This Eclipse isn’t asking for another take—it’s demanding a rewrite. Whatever plotline you’ve been dragging through the mud (love life, passion projects, belief that fun has to be productive)—it’s now or never. Try again, but this time, bring the receipts and the courage.
Someone calling you fun lately feels like a pity compliment—and it’s making you spiral into Pinterest boards titled How to get my sparkle back without quitting my job.
The eclipse hits the part of your chart that rules genuine pleasure, so if you’ve been faking joy to survive beige commitments, your inner child just filed an HR complaint.
Your creative process now includes a 12-point checklist, 3 mood boards, and one existential crisis per week.
If you’ve been outsourcing your self-worth to romantic attention, this eclipse hands you a mirror and a Post-it that says, Do better.
You might be fantasizing about a spontaneous love affair, but your phone is full of ghosted text threads and one overly flirty spreadsheet.
Reclaiming joy doesn’t mean burning it all down—it means finally learning the difference between this thrills me and this performs well.
Your desire for recognition just collided with your fear of exposure. Congratulations, you’re stuck between an Oscar and a burnout.
This eclipse is not here to give you clout. It’s here to make you ask why the hell you needed clout in the first place.
You could win an award for Most Emotionally Available to Everyone Except Myself.
The part of you that used to dance in the kitchen is threatening to unionize if you don’t start giving it actual airtime.
Your inner artist is tired of being your unpaid intern. Give them a budget or expect a walkout.
That one project you abandoned when you didn’t go viral? It wants another shot—and this time, without the need to monetize it.
If you’ve been parenting your joy like a strict headmaster, expect rebellion in the form of weird hobbies and inexplicable crushes.
This eclipse might bring a romantic plot twist, but it’ll come gift-wrapped in a lesson about self-worth with no gift receipt.
Stop pretending your creative work doesn’t matter just because it doesn’t make money. Art is not your side hustle. It’s your soul in drag.
You’re trying to flirt, but you keep accidentally offering people practical life advice and tax-saving tips.
If you’re in a relationship, your idea of foreplay this week is let’s co-author a five-year plan that includes time for play.
Single? You’re either building your dream partner in your head or swearing off dating to marry your therapist’s praise.
Joy isn’t frivolous—it’s sacred. If your life feels like a grayscale indie film, this eclipse wants you to add glitter, chaos, and a rewrite of your lead character’s entire arc.
Ask yourself: is your life fun… or just functional with good lighting?
Be honest—what’s one romantic or creative risk you’ve been too emotionally constipated to take? Name it below. And if you want to stop ghostwriting your happiness, book a reading.
♊️ Gemini Rising
Suddenly, everything that used to feel fine under your roof is now on a Virgo-style quality control rampage. This New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse is hitting your 4th house, meaning the plot twist is domestic, ancestral, and potentially about the weird emotional dynamic between you and the junk drawer. Whether you’re fighting ghosts, gut-renovating your sense of safety, or realizing you might’ve built your emotional foundation out of Ikea particleboard and projection, the rewrite is here—and it’s not asking nicely.
You might not know where you belong right now, but you can definitely feel what no longer feels like home—and that’s the start.
Your idea of stability might have come from someone else’s Pinterest board, not your actual nervous system.
Resentments you’ve buried under the floorboards are knocking back. Time to pry them up, label them accurately, and maybe sage your living room.
The line between nostalgia and self-sabotage is thinner than your tolerance for small talk this week.
That habit of pretending everything’s okay because your throw pillows are cute? The eclipse would like to have a word with you.
Emotional labor is not the same thing as connection. You shouldn’t have to parent your parent to feel safe.
If your inner child is showing up with a suitcase and asking for a room of her own, listen.
Your ancestors are not just watching—they’re fact-checking. And some of them want edits.
The family group chat might be unhinged. That’s not a crisis. That’s an invitation to log off and heal your own storyline.
You don’t have to burn the house down to stop performing happy home theater.
This is less find yourself and more stop hiding the evidence of who you’ve always been.
Maybe you didn’t outgrow that home—maybe you outgrew being the unpaid emotional translator for everyone in it.
Safety that demands your silence is not safety. This eclipse wants you to stop calling it that.
This is not a reboot of your past. It’s the final season arc where you walk out of the inherited storyline and write your own.
That gut feeling isn’t just anxiety. It’s your intuition screaming through a megaphone while Mercury edits the subtitles.
Yes, it’s okay to want a sacred space that isn’t also a war zone for unresolved generational trauma.
You can hang the art. You can paint the walls. But if you never felt welcome in your own house, that’s the part getting gutted now.
This might be the first time you’re mothering yourself the way you always needed. Don’t rush the process.
If your therapist suddenly becomes your emergency contact, congrats—you’re in the middle of a structural emotional renovation.
There’s no prize for pretending you’re not overwhelmed. This eclipse wants you to feel it, name it, and evict whatever’s been squatting in your soul’s basement rent-free.
What does home need to feel like for you to stop performing and start exhaling? Tell me in the comments. And if you’re ready to renovate the emotional foundation, book a reading—I’ll bring the blueprint and the cosmic hammer.
♋️ Cancer Rising
Everything around you is screaming edit this line, reframe that thought, tighten your timing, and it’s not just your inner critic—it’s the New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse beaming its full Virgo spotlight into your 3rd house of communication, cognition, siblings, schedules, and general mental traffic. If your thoughts have felt like a group chat you can’t mute, this eclipse is handing you a big red pen and asking: What story are you telling yourself, and who taught you to tell it that way?
It’s not enough to be insightful—Virgo in the 3rd wants receipts, outlines, and follow-through. You can’t just vibe your way into clarity anymore.
Whatever mental loop you’ve been stuck in is officially over budget, behind schedule, and being restructured like a bankrupt production company.
That anxiety spiral you’ve been calling thinking it through? Not anymore. The eclipse just cancelled the pilot.
Every time you’ve said it’s fine while dying inside has been recorded. This eclipse is pressing rewind and adding commentary.
Sibling dynamics, childhood stories, and the way you learned to argue (or not) are all getting recast.
You're not here to be the unpaid script supervisor for someone else's emotional monologue.
Not rocking the boat is no longer the goal. Communicating clearly even if your voice shakes is the assignment now.
Expect weird plot twists in text threads. You might accidentally tell the truth in a group chat. It might feel incredible.
This eclipse isn’t just about speaking your truth—it’s about admitting what you’ve never said out loud. Especially to yourself.
Your internal monologue has been running on auto-pilot. This is your chance to reprogram it with better language, boundaries, and a slightly more self-respecting narrator.
Think of this like a cosmic notes app update: fewer over-apologies, more declarative sentences.
If your calendar is a graveyard of yeses you didn’t mean, welcome to the plot twist: saying no is now a plot device, not a character flaw.
You’re not flaky for changing your mind. You’re a screenwriter revising mid-act. Own it.
Someone from your past might reach out just to trigger the part of you that still over-explains. Don’t take the bait.
This is not the time to sugarcoat your instincts. Be concise, be sharp, be done.
No more guilted check-ins with people who only call when their life is falling apart. Virgo at 29° is cutting the dead lines—literally.
Your voice doesn’t need to be perfect to be powerful. The eclipse is proofread energy, not perfectionism paralysis.
Communication is now less about being liked and more about being understood. Stop writing for applause and start writing for truth.
Even short-distance travel could deliver long-term plot twists. Car rides might become confessionals. Spontaneous road trips might become origin stories.
This rewrite is not just about who you talk to—it’s about the voice you’re learning to trust in the silence between conversations.
What’s one script you’re ready to stop performing? Drop it in the comments, rewrite your own rules, and book a reading if you need help getting out of someone else’s voiceover.
♌️ Leo Rising
Not everything needs to be glamorous to be transformative—and this New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse is here to remind you that your value doesn’t live in your highlight reel. With this lunation lighting up your 2nd house of money, worth, security, and self-respect, the Virgo Eclipse is handing you a highlighter and asking: Who wrote this scene where you constantly over-deliver for breadcrumbs and call it ‘grind culture’?
There’s a difference between self-worth and hustle-pride, and this eclipse is dragging you into that realization whether you’re ready or not.
Being broke isn’t spiritual. Neither is undercharging for things that steal your time, peace, and sleep. Virgo knows the math and it’s giving: unpaid labor.
Every time you’ve said I just love helping people while dying a little inside is now up for financial review.
This eclipse is not about manifesting millions overnight—it’s about confronting the fact that your bank account has been carrying the weight of your unresolved self-esteem.
If you've been treating your talents like a clearance rack, expect a cosmic price tag audit.
Paying for everything with your energy doesn’t make you noble, it makes you tired. Virgo wants receipts and rest.
A raise, a rate increase, or a budget boundary might feel like confrontation—but it’s actually self-respect with a calculator.
Gifting your services to people who just need a little help is a 2nd house eclipse plot twist waiting to happen. Start charging or start resenting.
That tiny voice whispering I’m not ready yet? It’s just your imposter syndrome doing improv. Cut the scene.
People won’t value what you do until you do—and yes, that includes literal dollar signs.
If you’ve been tying your self-worth to applause, compliments, or followers, the eclipse is sending you a cease and desist.
This is about security, not status. If it doesn’t make you feel safe—financially or emotionally—it’s on the chopping block.
Just because you're passionate about something doesn’t mean it has to be your unpaid side hustle for eternity.
If an expense makes you feel anxious and undernourished (financially or spiritually), Virgo says: return to sender.
Eclipses in the 2nd house force a new financial identity—one where budgeting isn’t punishment, it’s protection.
The most rebellious thing you can do right now is believe you deserve more without waiting for permission or proof.
You’ve been negotiating your worth with people who can’t even spell boundaries. That deal’s expired.
Think of this like a financial reset button—but the kind that also reboots your beliefs about what’s possible when you stop settling.
If you’re constantly giving 110% just to feel good enough, the eclipse says: maybe the problem isn’t your effort—it’s your valuation system.
What belief about money or self-worth is begging to be rewritten? Drop it below, rework the scene, and book a reading if you’re ready to stop negotiating with your own potential like it’s on clearance.
♍️ Virgo Rising
This New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse lands in your 1st house of identity and reinvention, and no, you don’t get to do a soft relaunch—you’re on deadline, and the notes are brutal. That inner editor you thought was just anxiety? She’s now your head writer. Whether you’re rewriting your entire personality or just firing the part of you that says I’m fine with a nervous laugh, it’s showtime.
Your personality has officially been optioned for a rewrite and the Virgo Eclipse just slashed the budget for all people-pleasing extras.
Every time you said it’s no big deal instead of advocating for yourself is now being presented in a humiliating montage by your inner child.
If you keep saying this is just who I am, the Universe is going to yell back, Well, then get better! and slap your coffee out of your hand.
The version of yourself that’s just tolerating things is getting written out of the plot. Welcome to the director’s cut of your life.
This Eclipse doesn’t want you to glow up. It wants you to rip up the scene where you settled for less and reshoot with better lighting and actual standards.
Faking it till you make it? No longer an option. Virgo at 29° demands receipts, emotional continuity, and character growth that doesn't rely on vibe alone.
Every apology you didn’t mean is now returning like bad improv—cringe and unscripted.
The way you introduce yourself is on trial. If your self-worth hinges on how helpful or chill you are, the Eclipse just yelled BORING! and threw a shoe.
This isn’t a transformation—it’s a character assassination of your old coping mechanisms. And it’s being filmed in 4K.
Your mirror just got recast as a high-performance interrogation spotlight. What you see might be terrifying, but at least it’s honest.
Your self-image has unionized and is now demanding better working conditions. Pay it with integrity or prepare for a strike.
This Eclipse is not interested in your neutral tones or middle-of-the-road opinions. Pick a lane, queen.
Trying to soft-launch a boundary? The Eclipse is now hard-launching it on your behalf—with press, merch, and a cease-and-desist letter.
Identity isn’t static, but yours has been frozen like bad Botox. This lunation is the injection of movement you forgot you needed.
If you’ve been making your personality out of other people’s expectations, prepare to experience a full personality eviction.
Your skin might break out, your sleep might implode, and your emotions might short-circuit—but it’s not a meltdown, it’s a plot reset.
You don’t need to reinvent yourself, you need to stop casting fear in the lead role and expecting applause for emotional realism.
Don’t be surprised if you suddenly feel allergic to anything that doesn’t feel like truth. Yes, even your favorite coping playlist.
The character you’re becoming has better lines, sharper edits, and refuses to die in Act 2 for someone else’s narrative.
For the next six months, think of your entire life as a screen test. Are you delivering the performance of your soul—or just reading from a script someone handed you in childhood?
Final scene direction: Rewrite yourself like you mean it. What line are you cutting from the script—and what truth are you finally ready to say on camera? Reflect, comment, share, and book a reading if your inner writer’s room is one breakdown away from brilliance.
♎️ Libra Rising
Whispers from the backstage of your life are getting louder, and they’re asking why your subconscious still thinks it’s directing the show. This Eclipse in your 12th house isn’t a spa retreat or a vibe cleanse. It’s a full-blown cinematic exorcism of every internalized ghost, toxic coping mechanism, and belief system still holding the boom mic in your personal film. Good news: your healing arc finally gets a rewrite. Bad news: no one’s holding your hand through it.
Monologues about being fine are being cut from the script with ruthless precision, mostly because they were never believable to begin with.
Sleep might be chaotic, dreams might get loud, and you might start remembering weird conversations from 2016 that now feel oddly relevant—welcome to the editorial phase of the soul.
This isn’t gentle healing. It’s more like waking up to discover your subconscious has published your unprocessed feelings on a billboard and dared you to read them aloud.
All the inner roles you auditioned for out of survival—The One Who Never Needs Help, The Constant Mediator, The Emotionally Graceful One—are being recast without notice.
That inner voice you thought was intuition might actually be your unresolved middle school trauma doing improv. Rewrite accordingly.
Invisibility is no longer a sustainable strategy. Even your avoidance tactics are starting to feel high-maintenance.
The Eclipse is triggering your backstage pass to the universe’s most chaotic rehearsal: the part where you finally have to listen to your inner dialogue without rolling your eyes.
Every time you told yourself I’ll deal with that later, the Eclipse just submitted it to your spiritual inbox marked urgent.
There’s no ghosting your shadow right now. If you don’t schedule time with it, it’ll schedule time with you—and bring snacks.
Escapist behavior is suddenly glitching. Overthinking, overplanning, or binge-watching your way out of emotional honesty just stopped working.
The version of you that wants to be everyone’s emotional support animal is getting furloughed. Emotional labor isn’t a career path anymore.
If you’ve been secretly hoping divine timing would do your inner work for you—surprise! You’re now the divine temp hire.
Eclipses in the 12th are like dream sequences that reveal plot holes you didn’t know existed. If it feels confusing, you’re doing it right.
Reflection isn't a luxury this season. It’s a required rewrite session between you and the most feral parts of your own emotional screenplay.
Mental health rituals that used to be cute now need to be upgraded like they’re security software. You’re not journaling, you’re debugging.
Psychic hygiene is mandatory. Think less rose quartz, more spiritual hazmat suit and a post-it note that says clean your energetic baseboards.
Unconscious patterns you thought were just part of your personality are getting flagged by the cosmos with are you sure? energy.
Rest isn’t just good advice—it’s now mandatory script formatting. Without it, the whole narrative collapses under emotional typos.
Hidden enemies? Plot twist: sometimes they live in your head and sound like perfectionism. Fire them before they get a speaking role.
What looks like withdrawal to the outside world might be the bravest thing you’ve done in years—self-isolation as sacred rehearsal.
Who are you without the applause, the performance, or the pressure to make it all look easy? Comment with the line you’re cutting from your inner monologue, share with your over-functioning inner critic, and book a reading if your emotional understudies keep trying to hijack your healing arc.
♏️ Scorpio Rising
Group chats feel like group therapy right now, and not in the healing way—in the who even ARE these people and why did I let them comment on my character arc? way. The New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse lands in your 11th house of community, future dreams, and collective delusions, which means you’re now being asked to revise the guest list of your entire support system. If your dream team suddenly feels like an improv troupe with no plot, it’s time to re-write the cast, the setting, and the storyline.
Someone who once seemed like a mentor may suddenly feel like an unpaid life coach giving outdated advice from 2009. This eclipse wants you to find friends with updated software.
If the group project of your life hasn’t been working, it’s probably because one of your teammates keeps dodging emotional responsibility while you quietly ghost your own needs. Rewrite that script.
People-pleasing in your friendships is now so loud it’s practically a subplot. Being the reliable one isn’t a personality trait—it’s a coping mechanism with burnout receipts.
That long-held dream you’ve been nurturing like it’s a bonsai tree? This Eclipse wants to know if it’s still alive or if you’ve just been watering a stick out of guilt.
Future plans built on vibes and vague promises are getting the red-pen edit. I’ll get to it eventually isn’t a timeline—it’s a plot hole.
Friendships that feel like emotional MLMs will start showing their pyramid-shaped cracks. If you're being spiritually upsold every time you vent, it’s not a bond—it’s a business model.
Every emotional support role you’ve accepted from friends who never return the favor is now under review. This script is getting flipped.
Social media may suddenly feel like a bad pilot episode you regret watching. Unfollow, unfriend, unsubscribe—especially from the version of yourself you perform there.
Dreams that started out inspiring but turned into anxiety-producing perfectionist traps are getting rewritten with actual human pacing. No, it doesn’t have to be a bestseller by Tuesday.
Long-term goals with zero joy are being flagged as incompatible with soul growth. Just because you can do it doesn’t mean it should be in your life’s third act.
Connections built on convenience instead of conviction are suddenly glitching. This eclipse wants loyalty with range, not just who's around to like your posts.
Expect an old friend or community member to resurface and force you to decide whether you’re still aligned—or just nostalgic.
Vision boards that used to make you feel empowered now look like Pinterest trauma. It’s okay to want different things than your past self did.
Someone in your circle might offer you constructive criticism that feels more like spiritual sabotage. Take the note, but don’t keep the source.
Social obligations without meaning are getting the chop. If the vibe isn’t sacred, it’s not on the calendar.
Mutuals who thrive on passive-aggressive affirmations and vague energy clearing rituals may need to be lovingly blocked. You’re curating your energetic ensemble.
If your friend group can’t handle your growth arc without cracking jokes or spiraling, that’s a sign—not a punchline.
Future-you called and said, Please stop dragging the dead weight of performative friendships into my timeline. That counts as divine feedback.
Only two supporting characters get to stay: people who cheer for your success and call you in with compassion. The rest are being written out in the next draft.
What dream, goal, or friendship needs a plot twist—or a total re-cast? Drop a line below, reimagine your personal ensemble, and book a reading if your life’s vision board needs a ruthless yet fabulous rewrite.
♐️ Sagittarius Rising
Professionalism is on trial—and the court is in session whether you prepared your testimony or not. The New Moon Partial Solar Eclipse hits your 10th house of career, reputation, and parental archetypes with ruthless edit mode. This is not a performance review; this is a rewrite of your entire third act. The role you’ve been auditioning for? It’s either getting recast or finally going into production. And if you’ve been winging it, the universe just called cut.
Someone in a position of power may trigger your fight-or-flight by doing exactly what you would’ve done if you weren’t so busy playing it safe. The Eclipse wants to know: are you committed to the role, or just memorizing lines?
Workaholic tendencies dressed up as ambition will be exposed for what they are: control issues in a blazer. And unfortunately, your inbox has receipts.
The professional identity you’ve clung to for validation is now feeling like a plot twist that never quite landed. If the title doesn’t fit, the Eclipse is here with a red pen and a resume revamp.
A long-buried dream job might resurface, but it comes with a test: are you ready to work for it without needing everyone’s applause?
Authority figures may suddenly mirror the exact version of yourself you’ve been avoiding. Pay attention—they’re delivering lines from your own script.
Parental approval is no longer the emotional currency it once was. This Eclipse is writing you a check in self-worth instead. Will you cash it or keep begging the bank of Dad?
Success that came from self-betrayal is up for renegotiation. Just because you made it work doesn’t mean it was working for you.
Public image is getting a clarity filter whether you asked for it or not. If you’ve been cosplaying a brand, expect someone to comment off script soon.
That one job that should’ve worked out but didn’t? Plot device. Not destiny. Consider this your rewrite arc.
Sudden praise might feel overwhelming because it contradicts the imposter syndrome you’ve been silently scripting. Let it interrupt the narrative.
A boss or mentor could abruptly leave, forcing you to level up—or realize you’ve been using their shadow to hide in.
If you’ve been stuck in a loop of overpromising and under-recovering, this Eclipse will drag you to a confrontation with your limits—and maybe HR.
Professional burnout dressed up as hustle culture is losing its aesthetic. The only thing you’re manifesting with that attitude is chronic back pain.
Old job titles are starting to sound like inside jokes from a past life. It’s not failure to pivot—it’s character development.
Career goals that once sparkled are now giving budget reboot. Turns out your ambition needs a better director.
If you’ve been chasing status instead of substance, prepare for a dramatic scene cut. Prestige doesn’t hug you back.
Opportunities may show up dressed like chaos. If it doesn’t look like what you imagined, that doesn’t mean it’s off-script—it might be the rewrite you actually need.
Fantasizing about quitting everything to become a goat farmer in Portugal? Not random. This eclipse is asking if your current storyline still nourishes you.
There’s nothing cute about staying in a job that’s allergic to your growth. This is your chance to choose a path that doesn’t require you to mute your genius.
What version of success have you outgrown—and are you brave enough to write a new one? Drop a truth bomb in the comments, reflect tomorrow, and book a reading if your career arc is due for a total rewrite. Curtain’s up.
♑️ Capricorn Rising
Philosophy class is over and the New Moon Patrial Solar Eclipse in Virgo just handed back your personal belief system with 800 margin notes and zero gold stars. With your 9th house in the hot seat, the universe isn’t asking what you believe—it’s demanding a rewrite of why, how, and who you plagiarized that worldview from. If your deepest convictions are just a mix of parental guilt, expired travel blogs, and self-help quotes you only half believed, this is the moment it all gets edited out of the plot.
Academic degrees, philosophical debates, and visa applications are all fair game. If your big picture is stitched together from vibes, vague memories, and expired memes, this eclipse is here to deconstruct the whole collage.
Blind faith won’t cut it. The new script requires citations. If your worldview can’t survive scrutiny, it might’ve been more of a coping mechanism than a calling.
Travel plans, real or metaphorical, are under review. If you’ve been trying to outrun your existential dread by booking flights or overpacking your spiritual schedule, the Eclipse might strand you long enough to feel what you’ve been avoiding.
That wise teacher you follow online may start sounding like they’re plagiarizing your common sense. Either outgrow the mentor or become your own.
Moral superiority can’t hide behind aesthetics anymore. You can’t just look like you care—you need a syllabus, a ritual, and possibly a better translation of that sacred text you keep half-quoting.
Self-righteousness wrapped in mindfulness is still just judgment in stretch pants. The Eclipse is calling it out before your entire belief system gets soft-canceled by your higher self.
Publishing projects, legal matters, or spiritual platforms may experience a hard pause. This is less you’re failing and more the universe needs to reshoot that scene with better lighting.
Foreign connections or long-distance opportunities could appear, but with fine print that requires you to evolve—or at least admit you have no idea how time zones work.
If your idea of expansion is just becoming a little more palatable to people who already agree with you, expect a philosophical earthquake.
Righteous rage about injustice is noble. Just make sure you’re not just mad that someone misquoted your favorite activist in an Instagram caption.
Intellectual overcompensation might backfire when you realize the very thing you’re arguing against is the thing you haven’t fully digested yet.
Curiosity is sacred. Certainty is boring. If you’ve been clinging to dogma like a security blanket, the Eclipse is here to snatch it off mid-monologue.
Your relationship to risk, adventure, and the unknown is due for a karmic reboot. Real growth happens when you stop narrating your vulnerability like it's a TED Talk and just feel the damn feelings.
Literal school or spiritual training might get delayed, accelerated, or overhauled entirely. What matters is whether the curriculum is actually yours.
Anyone cosplaying enlightenment without owning their shadow is about to get metaphorically pantsed by the cosmos. Enjoy the show.
Spontaneous quests for knowledge are likely—but they come with an uncomfortable truth: to level up, you might have to question your favorite soapbox.
A trip, retreat, or sabbatical could catalyze major life changes. Or it could just teach you how to pack lighter. Either way, take the hint.
If it all feels a little preachy, that’s because part of you still wants to be the teacher. The Eclipse says: be the student again. The lesson isn’t finished.
Stubborn loyalty to old codes of honor might get tested. It’s not betrayal to outgrow your family's moral handbook. Especially if page one is don’t feel anything.
A personal truth is rising that doesn’t need permission, audience approval, or a book deal. It just wants to be lived, not just quoted.
What’s one outdated belief you’re ready to drop like a bad sequel? Let it go in the comments, reflect tomorrow when the rewrites land, and book a reading if your moral compass is spinning like a glitchy GPS in a canyon.
♒️ Aquarius Rising
Emotional detox meets cosmic rewrite. The Virgo New Moon partial Solar Eclipse at 29° is tearing through your 8th house like an obsessive editor with a red pen, slicing out the dead weight from your most entangled plotlines: intimacy, trust, power, debt, and maybe a few secrets you’ve been trying to outwit by ignoring. No more improv. No more half-truths. No more lingering in energetic contracts that expired six heartbreaks ago. This is your final rewrite—and it’s demanding soul-level edits. The 8th house isn't just about mystery, it is the mystery—and right now, Virgo is putting it under fluorescent lights with a clipboard and a judgmental glare.
Karmic IOUs are coming due, and you can't pay them off with witty banter and ironic detachment.
That shadow work you meant to get around to? Guess what. It's now a group project with the Eclipse as team lead and your triggers as the syllabus.
You’re being asked to gut-renovate your relationship to vulnerability—but Virgo’s the contractor, and they’ve got a spreadsheet titled Why Control Isn’t Intimacy.
This house rules shared resources, which means you’re being handed a magnifying glass and told to examine who really holds the power in your connections—and why.
Old entanglements may resurface, not to rekindle, but to remind you what emotional codependency dressed up as deep love actually looks like.
Financial skeletons might rattle—inheritances, taxes, debts. If it’s hidden or taboo, it’s now in the front row with popcorn.
Virgo doesn’t care about your mystique. Virgo wants documentation, receipts, and a six-month repayment plan for any lingering energetic debts.
This isn’t just healing—it’s forensic healing. You’re not moving on, you’re reconstructing the crime scene.
Boundaries are your new safe word. If someone treats your time, body, or energy like a group project they didn’t contribute to, Virgo says cut them from the script.
What you’ve repressed for the sake of being the chill one is now staging a full-blown union strike inside your nervous system.
That habit of intellectualizing emotions to avoid feeling them? Cute. Virgo wants you to sit in the feeling until it gives up its backstory.
Every time you avoid asking for what you need, you lose 5 psychic hit points and earn a new resentment you’ll call spiritual insight later.
This eclipse might spotlight the part of you that’s more comfortable navigating grief than pleasure—and it will ask why.
Sometimes transformation feels like chaos. This time it feels like calmly burning the entire filing cabinet and labeling it freedom.
Death metaphors are cute until Virgo asks you to rebirth yourself with a damn checklist.
Nobody’s saying you need to become emotionally naked on Instagram. But if the closest person in your life doesn’t know your actual needs, that’s the rewrite.
Being vulnerable doesn’t mean being weak. It means being honest enough to admit when you’re still healing—and discerning enough to protect the process.
The Eclipse isn’t trying to punish you. It’s trying to purge you. Of guilt, shame, blame—especially the emotional mulch you picked up from other people and labeled mine.
After this, you’re not just a survivor. You’re a new character entirely. And the plot twist? You get to decide who gets a speaking role going forward.
This eclipse is hard, yes. But it’s also holy. And the holiest thing you can do right now is tell the truth—even if it changes everything.
What story about pain are you still calling sacred? Take 24 hours to sit with the real ending you need. Then write a new one—and cast yourself in the role that finally fits. Let me know in the comments what emotional rewrite you’re claiming, and book a reading if your shadow work needs a co-author.
♓️ Pisces Rising
Partnerships don’t come with disclaimers, but maybe they should—especially now that the Virgo Solar Eclipse is doing a final edit on every contract, commitment, and codependent love story in your life. The 7th house is where projections masquerade as intimacy, and this Eclipse isn’t letting any It’s fine, I’m fine dialogue pass the rewrite room. Expect harsh clarity, uncomfortable truth-telling, and at least one metaphorical prenup for your emotional energy.
People who’ve been coasting on your compassion are about to get hit with a rewrite clause titled Mutual Respect or GTFO.
Passive-aggressive loyalty doesn’t cut it anymore. If someone’s vibe drains the room and then calls it devotion, the Eclipse is handing you a script that doesn’t cast them.
This isn’t about being nice. It’s about being precise. Virgo in the 7th doesn’t do vague situationships—it does spreadsheets with emotional footnotes.
Every connection that’s been limping along on nostalgia and we’ve been through a lot flashbacks is about to face a scene cut.
Clarity is the new kink. It doesn’t matter how deep the history goes—if someone can’t spell commitment without caveats, the credits are rolling.
Letting someone love you in a way that hurts is not a spiritual badge of honor—it’s just an outdated script that needs to be deleted.
If a partner has been treating your empathy like a bottomless buffet, this eclipse is installing portion control.
Every compliment wrapped in a critique, every supportive gesture with a guilt trip—yeah, Virgo has notes. And they're brutal.
Contracts might be literal or psychic—but either way, renegotiation is mandatory. Terms and conditions are no longer implied. They are in writing and reviewed quarterly.
Romantic potential is irrelevant if someone’s character arc is emotionally unavailable but hot about it.
This Eclipse wants to know if you’re co-creating something or just emotionally outsourcing your needs to someone who can’t spell reciprocity.
The ghost of exes past might pop up—not because you’re meant to rekindle, but because Virgo wants to make sure the lesson actually stuck.
Being the understanding one in every relationship is starting to feel like a bad casting choice. Time to audition for roles that include boundaries and orgasms.
There’s a difference between compromise and contortion. One builds bridges; the other dislocates your soul.
Even healthy partnerships get rewrites. Nobody’s safe from a well-timed is this really working? montage.
This house also rules legal contracts, so if you’ve been putting off signing, splitting, or solidifying something—it’s now or never (with consequences).
The Eclipse wants real-time feedback loops, not silent resentment with a fake smile filter.
Single? This rewrite includes how you date, who you attract, and why you keep swiping on emotionally fluent but allergic to logistics.
Every relationship you enter from this point forward has to pass a new test: Do they support the plot, or are they just chaos with good lighting?
Old dynamics will try to pull you back, like a reboot no one asked for. Virgo says you’re not doing spin-offs. Only award-winning originals from here on out.
What’s one relationship rule you’re rewriting after this eclipse? Drop it in the comments like a boundary you mean this time. And book a reading if you need help editing your current cast.
Want to find out or confirm your placements? Visit AuthorityAstrology.com to get a free copy of your natal chart.
Looking for deeper, more personal insight? Book a reading with Iris!
