Fragmentation Here I am, contemplating all the changes that I have witnessed in my life and in the world, and looking back and looking forward is something that I love doing, but always anchoring myself in the present moment. Because I love studying my chart and the chart of others, as I do many readings a week, and I also look at financial charts, I am observing how the behavior of the world is unfolding. I am observing behavior, but I am also tracing patterns that repeat themselves through history and patterns that repeat themselves in my own life. It is interesting to see that while I cannot predict things, I can start observing also my behavior and how I respond to the environment, how more or less the upcoming transits or progressions in my life could unfold. Again, I am not making predictions. I am just saying, oh, I have this sensation that this probably is going to unfold this way. And then I can look back and say, because in the past, these were the patterns and the tendencies. Uranus is about to turn retrograde at one degree of Gemini (09/04/25) , moving back into Taurus and traveling all the way to 27° . It will remain retrograde until February 4, 2026 — five months exactly before the next eclipse season — and then moves forward again, re-entering Gemini along with Venus on April 26th, one day before my birthday . This is the last revision before the leap forward, the last pause before individuation jumps into new form. Uranus propels us to change; Uranus says this is no longer needed; Uranus deconditions what has crystallized and stopped growing. As Uranus goes retrograde, I think back on the last seven years since 2018 : what values I was able to give myself, where I am heading, what the new territory is. And even if I do not yet know it fully, I can begin to sense it. So I do this myself, but I also have two anchors that I work with. Two practitioners that I work with monthly and mirror and hold space for my unfolding. And I make recordings of my thoughts daily. Some of them become articles in Substack. Some of them go to the pool of the chapters that I am writing for my book. But mostly it is something that is a mirror that helps me reflect the progression of my life. The word individuation is central to this. If you are into Jungian psychology, you will be connected to it. It means to liberate yourself from trauma, liberate yourself from your conditioning. Jung started using this word in his early work and made it central in Two Essays on Analytical Psychology (1928) . He wrote: “Individuation means becoming a single, homogeneous being, and, in so far as ‘individuality’ embraces our innermost, last, and incomparable uniqueness, it also implies becoming one’s own self. We could therefore translate individuation as ‘coming to selfhood’ or ‘self-realization.’” (CW 7, §266) For me, the path of individuation is a path toward joy and toward self-love. It is far from aligning with powerlessness or staying bound to victimization; it is about discerning the strength that comes from embracing my inner child, letting that part of me be seen and integrated. In my life, there have always been disruptions that make me land in new territory. And it is always about initiating these shakes. The world is shaking, and at the same time I am awakening into new realizations. I carry a Moon balsamic to Neptune in Scorpio, fused with my Midheaven, so the emotional field and the dissolving of form have always pulled me toward closure, toward endings that feel like gateways yet full of divine inspiration. In studying evolutionary astrology, I found some tapes from my first classes with my teacher around the end of 2017 . It is interesting because in one of those tapes we were talking about how my chart is pretty much about balsamic (ending) relationships. Jupiter is balsamic to my Sun, Mercury retrograde kazimi leans toward the Sun in Taurus in the third house, always pulling thought and voice into integration, into distillation rather than expansion, a grounded synthesis emerges in every query. But I also have a couple of points that balance the chart: the oppositions of Saturn and Uranus, of Chiron and Pluto, and of the Moon and the Sun. These are like anchors in the chart. They give me the polarity that I need in order to snap out of whatever individuation I want to do. Saturn in Pisces in my first house faces Uranus in Virgo in the seventh, an axis of endings and beginnings of form and disruption, of structure and sudden needed breaks. The Sun in Taurus opposes the Moon in Scorpio, a full moon written into my birth, teaching me how to stand in polarity and let both sides speak with intensity yet grounded in the embodiment of the material experience. I do it even with so many balsamic signatures. I do not simply rest in dissolution. The Aquarian Rising, the quincunx from Uranus in Virgo to the Ascendant, the South Node of the Moon in the eleventh house — the constant impulse of Uranian energy keeps me awake, keeps
