Your Mortality Called. It Left a Message.

If you missed our Tuesday cosmic weather report, here’s a quick recap: today, the Full Moon hands Scorpio an open mic. Since we all know Scorpio is a preeminent verbal assassin, do prepare for what's about to occur. We highly recommend donning a helmet for the truths that may surface.

This weekend calls for a 100 percent chance of looking at yourself in the mirror, coming face to face with your own mortality. May we suggest you complement that look of bewilderment by silently mouthing how the hell did this happen?

You are not alone. We are all going through it right now.

What follows is the only logical thing to do: brood. Brood hard. The kind of brooding that calls for a pint of Ben & Jerry's. Maybe two.

After ruminating and licking your mortal wounds, Sunday will offer you a bit of solace. Think of it as a spa day for your soul. Go gently into the day. Ponder life's tender possibilities.

This is your cosmic permission slip to rebalance. It's also an opportunity to consider what five-year-old you wanted versus what you've become. Wander out into the world. Take yourself to brunch, nurse your aperitif like a pro. A bit of disorientation right now will do you some good.

How else do you discover who you are than by losing yourself, even if just temporarily?

If you must, tell others you're going shopping. No one wants to do that these days, so rest assured you'll have the day to yourself. Make Sunday your own day of sanctuary.

Come Monday, you'll awaken with renewed vigor — either you've made the internal commitment to make that five-year-old's dreams come true, or you stay put, anchored by life's rules and expectations.

The choice is yours. The universe will bring you what you want. But first, you must ask for it.

That's the way it works. Oh, you didn't know?

Let the truth land. Don't deflect, don't rationalize, don't text your ex. Whatever the Full Moon just handed you, hold it — because the only way out of a Scorpio mirror moment is straight through it.

On Sunday, sit with it. Not for five minutes. Not until it gets uncomfortable. Until it tells you something useful.

Resist the urge to fix, spin, reframe, or package it into something more palatable. That's how you miss the point.

Scorpio doesn't reveal things to hurt you. It reveals things to show you where you've been operating on autopilot.

And once you see it… you can't unsee it.

Scorpio is not the villain here. Pretending is.

Write it down — on paper, not in your notes app. The thing that's draining you. Name it. Acknowledge it. Make one concrete gesture toward diminishing its hold on you, even if it's small, even if it's just admitting it out loud to yourself in the car. That counts.

The universe takes requests. It doesn't do walk-ins.

Monday is the real cosmic event. Friday cracks you open, Sunday puts you back together, but Monday is when you find out what you're made of.

Choose accordingly.

That five-year-old is watching.

Share us with someone we’d vibe with.

In Truth & Stardust,