A Black woman floats underwater, wrapped in flowing translucent fabric that moves like spirit. Her head tilts back slightly, eyes closed in soft surrender. Glowing orbs rise around her, casting gentle light across her skin. Her body language speaks of deep trust—held, protected, and entirely unhurried.

Beyond the Backspin

Beyond the Backspin Reclaiming the Power of Retrogrades Retrogrades are not detours. They are directional shifts meant to bring us into deeper harmony with time, truth, and transformation. The collective often treats these planetary moments like warning sirens—especially when Mercury is involved. Social media floods with memes and panic, as if a retrograde is a cosmic trick played on us rather than an invitation to slow down and realign. But that’s not how I experience them. Not anymore. At Healing through Visions, I meet retrograde energy with presence, not panic. When a planet stations retrograde, it doesn’t actually move backward—it appears to. This illusion of reversal is symbolic, not sinister. It signals a time when that planet’s themes become more internalized, more reflective, more potent…

A heavy, weathered trunk glows with otherworldly light at the bottom of a dark, swirling lake. Suspended by a molten-gold chain, the chest radiates energy from within—mysterious, ancient, and alive. This is not just a container. It is a sealed threshold holding ancestral truths, soul contracts, sacred rage, and buried power. A visual metaphor for Mars in Cancer in the 8th house—emotional depth, inherited strength, and transformation waiting to rise.

Mastering the Unseen

Mastering the Unseen What They Never Told You About Mars in Cancer Some people say my Mars is debilitated. That it doesn’t belong in Cancer. That it doesn’t know how to fight, or lead, or make moves. I say my Mars is a sacred vortex of primal power. A gatekeeper of ancestral memory. A sacred, simmering force that doesn’t perform power—it embodies it. It holds centuries of survival and transformation in every breath I take. It took me years to understand what this energy actually was. Not because it wasn’t always with me, but because the world I was raised in had no language for it. Mars in Cancer, retrograde, sitting in the 8th house at 29 degrees—it felt like carrying a wildfire under still…

A radiant Black woman sits at the head of a long, ancient table, cloaked in deep fabrics that shimmer like galaxies and velvet. Her crown is not just gold; it pulses with memory and magic. Her eyes hold lifetimes. Around her sit five distinct figures, each embodying a different facet of her shadow and strength. One wears a skeletal grin and a top hat, laughing with death and timing. Another is cloaked in feathers and watches with regal distance, protecting the parts that trust slowly. A third glows with molten gold eyes and vine-wrapped limbs, the part that thrives in chaos. The fourth shimmers with cosmic skin, a keeper of visions and the unseen. The last is mist with gemstone tears, carrying the grief that shaped her into something precious. This is not a war. It is a gathering. A feast of power, truth, and transformation. The woman at the head is not haunted by her shadows. She invites them in, feeds them, and listens. She is the architect of the ritual, the fire in the center, the story they all serve.

Feasting with My Inner Villains

Feasting with My Inner Villains A Ceremony of Shadow and Sovereignty There is a table within me. A long, ornate table lit by candlelight and courage. Around it sit the parts of myself I once tried to exile—the inner villains I feared, avoided, and judged. But now I invite them to dine. Not to tame them. Not to fight them. But to listen, to witness, to understand. This is no ordinary feast. This is a ritual of reclamation. Each of these inner archetypes once stormed through my life like uninvited guests, disrupting my peace, stealing my clarity. Doubt told me I was never enough. Anger flared when I felt invisible. Fear froze me in place just as I tried to leap. I used to call…

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