That’s how I know Jupiter and Mercury in Cancer are working overtime.
Ruled by the Moon, Cancer corresponds with memory, mothering, and emotional nourishment.
And when Jupiter amplifies that and Mercury narrates it?
We get messages in dreams.
Tears in the grocery store.
Conversations with people we haven’t talked to in years.
Moments that remind us who we used to be—and what we still need.

This week isn’t just about emotions—it’s about emotional realignment.
Who you turn to. What you're loyal to. What’s too tender to ignore anymore.

With both Jupiter and Mercury in Cancer, there’s a pull toward thinking about and allocating resources to the family, home, and chosen kin.
Cancer energy is loud in a quiet way. It’s clannish, nostalgic, and deeply protective.
It asks: Who are my people? and How do I take care of them—and myself?

But let’s be honest: Cancer is still a cardinal sign.
​They’ll cry with you one minute, then dip the next.
They start things—they don’t always stay.
(As someone with multiple cardinal placements, I say this with full self-awareness and a lil 😅.)
​
Sometimes Cancerian times create a sense of longing. Sometimes it’s a phone call you weren’t expecting.
Sometimes it’s dreaming of your grandma’s embrace right before everything shifts.

BTW, I missed you last week. 🫶🏾

🧼 Mars in Virgo (June 17): Get It Together (Gently)

Now that we're all cried out, we'll get a little earth to stabilize us.
Mars enters Virgo on June 17, and the vibe turns from feeling it all to sorting it out.
Mars in Virgo is tactical, detailed, and not here for performative nonsense.

That’s the paradox of mutable signs (like Virgo, Gemini, Sagittarius, and Pisces):
They adjust because they know things change.
With Virgo, that mutability is material—earth shifting constantly under your feet.

Virgo rules the lower digestive system, and with Mars here, your gut may be more sensitive than usual.
Inflammation, tummy aching, food that doesn’t sit right.
Why? Because Virgo requires vigilance and devotion.

You can’t just eat vibes.
You need nourishment that supports the system. You may need to revisit your eating habits to protect yourself. Remember that Mars is all about survival. 💪🏾

What’s that saying? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
​Yeah. That’s Virgo’s whole deal.

Now is the time to:

• Make the spreadsheet
• Rethink the routine
• Offer support that’s actually helpful
• Google or YouTube some recipes

🔮 Big Deck Energy: Tarot Card Pull for the Week

Welcome to Big Deck Energy—where I pull a tarot card each week on behalf of our collective to offer insight, reflection, or a much-needed reality check. Think of it as a weekly reset, a moment to pause and take in what’s unfolding. This week, I asked: Where am I being asked to show up with more care—and more precision?

Here's what the Tarot had to say: Six of Wands, reversed.
​
​Upright, the Six of Wands is the victory lap. You’ve won the fight, and now the crowd’s tossing laurel wreaths while you ride past on horseback, glowing.
Reversed? You’re back in the ring—tired, annoyed, and muttering, “Didn’t I already go through this?”​
Yeah. You did. And now it’s back… again.

Maybe you let that “old thang” back into your life after swearing you were done.
Maybe you gained the weight back, fell off the routine, or lost momentum after everything collapsed for a while.
Whatever it is, you’re re-engaged in a battle that was supposed to be finished.

So now what?

This card is asking: how can you build a system that sustains the win next time?​
This is Mars in Virgo energy all day—care and precision as a spiritual practice.
Maybe that means going no-contact and blocking the number.
Maybe it’s setting up a daily check-in with your accountability buddy so you actually get your sh*t done (#ad).

What action puts the final nail in the coffin on that old situation?

*Also worth asking*:
​Is this even worth the fight?

Sometimes the reversed Six of Wands is a gift.
​Cancer energy can romanticize the past—make it seem sweeter, simpler, more golden than it ever actually was.​
Take Donald Trump, for example: his Mercury (thoughts), Saturn (fears), and Venus (attachment) in Cancer have him clinging to a version of history that never existed. That’s why he recycles Reagan’s “Make America Great Again” slogan—trying to reclaim a fantasy instead of facing what’s real.

Sometimes, instead of chasing a memory—or a myth—we need to take the L and move on.
​It’s not a loss. It’s a release.​
When Quit isn’t a four-letter word, it becomes sacred strategy.