(May 4, 2025 – October 13, 2025)
Today, Pluto stations retrograde.
The god of the underworld pivots, looks back, and digs deeper.
I think it says something — something beautiful — that the planet who draws consciousness out of the unconscious is taking a breath, a pause, a descent inward.
Since Pluto first entered Aquarius last November, he has been so active stirring, unsettling, awakening.
Now, he invites us to follow him deeper.
Gently. Honestly. Without rushing.
I haven’t shared much about Pluto until now and yet he is one of my closest companions.
Because Pluto and I… we are kin.
We are both drawn to what others would rather bury.
We are both midwives of what festers in darkness, coaxing it into the light not for shame, but for tending.
We are both servants of wholeness.
If Pluto walked this earth as a living being, he would know what it’s like to be feared for the very healing he offers.
He would know the loneliness and the grace of loving even the most broken parts of others.
Howard Sasportas, in The Gods of Change, writes:
“Pluto is the servant of wholeness.
And to live in our wholeness, we must face these primal drives and emotions.”
Pluto demands nothing less than our full being.
Not just the polished parts but the messy, the fearful, the greedy, the jealous, the ashamed.
Every part of us deserves light.
Every part of us deserves tending.
Without that tending, these hidden parts rule us unconsciously
festering, infecting, spilling into our lives and relationships.
So Pluto does what only he can do.
He digs.
He unearths.
He refuses to let us abandon what needs our love.
This retrograde is an invitation.
To feel what has long been denied.
To meet the parts we thought were unworthy.
To allow what we buried to rise.
Not to fix.
Not to heal.
Just to see.
Just to hold.
Some things will rise in the mind.
Some in the heart.
Some in the gut.
However they come – let them.
Pluto will be in Aquarius until March 2043.
We have time.
There is no rush.
If you want to explore these depths — if you want a hand to hold — I’m here.
A servant of Pluto’s court.
A keeper of the underworld’s fire.
It would be an honor to walk with you.
But for now here is your map.
Look to the house Aquarius rules in your chart.
That is where Pluto is calling you inward.
That is where this retrograde invites your most beautiful unraveling and reweaving.
Pluto Retrograde through the Houses
Aquarius Risings – 1st House
Who are you — beyond every mask you’ve ever worn?
This retrograde invites you to embrace the hidden, the awkward, the disowned parts of yourself.
You are becoming someone new and more fully yourself than ever before.
Capricorn Risings – 2nd House
Where does your worth truly come from?
This retrograde revisits your relationship with money, value, and security.
Stay curious. Trace your drives back to their roots. Your worth was never up for sale.
Sagittarius Risings – 3rd House
The mind spirals and stews.
This retrograde invites transparency — with yourself and others.
Speak what is true. Journal what churns beneath the surface.
Freedom comes when you hold nothing in shadow.
Scorpio Risings – 4th House
The ancestral tides rise.
This retrograde revisits family patterns, childhood wounds, generational stories.
You don’t have to heal it all.
You only have to listen.
Libra Risings – 5th House
Pick up the brush. The pen. The yarn.
This retrograde calls you to reclaim abandoned passions and forgotten joys.
Create — not perfectly, but wildly, honestly, freely.
Virgo Risings – 6th House
The body remembers.
This retrograde may revisit old health themes, daily routines, patterns of work.
You are not losing ground.
You are refining.
You are learning to love yourself even in the small, slow moments.
Leo Risings – 7th House
Relationships mirror back the parts of self we would rather ignore.
This retrograde invites humility.
When conflict arises, look inward first.
Own your wounds.
Own your healing.
Cancer Risings – 8th House
Depth upon depth upon depth.
This retrograde offers you a rare gift: a respite.
A breath of air amidst the endless plunges.
Stand in the shallows for a while. Catch your breath. Let the light touch you.
Gemini Risings – 9th House
What do you believe?
This retrograde gives you space to question, to loosen the old beliefs, to let the dust settle.
You don’t have to know yet.
Let the ground beneath your feet soften.
Taurus Risings – 10th House
Ambition. Authority. Power.
This retrograde invites you to examine your relationship with power — your own and others’.
What are you trying to prove?
And who could you become if you no longer needed to prove anything?
Aries Risings – 11th House
Friendships. Communities. Dreams.
This retrograde reopens old wounds of belonging and offers a chance to heal them consciously.
Which goals still matter?
Which communities still nourish you?
Pisces Risings – 12th House
The deep end.
This retrograde is a breath in the dark a chance to surface, to breathe, to remember:
Life is not happening to you.
It is happening for you.
You are being prepared for your becoming.
Even here.
Even now.
Closing
This is tender work.
Sacred work.
It’s not always easy but it is always worth it.
If you need someone to walk with you
to hold space,
to honor your depths,
to help you draw the buried treasures into the light
I’m here.
Together, we can work with Pluto, not against him.
We can become whole.
Oh, how I love Pluto.
And oh, how I love the becoming he demands of us. 🌑
A Love Letter to Pluto
Beneath the dreaming skies of Venus stationed direct in Pisces,
this prayer rose up from the marrow of my being
a whisper, a spell, a vow.
It is a love letter to Pluto,
written not from triumph, but from sacred surrender.
When we kneel at the altar of transformation,
when we offer our whole selves — tired, luminous, longing
Pluto answers.
May these words be a torch for you in the underworld.
May they remind you: you are not walking alone.
Dear Pluto, This Is Me on My Knees
I will not pretend to understand
everything that is happening
to me,
through me,
with me,
without me.
I only know your hand.
I know how you sculpt from shadow.
I know how your love burns through bone
until only truth remains.
This is me
on my knees
Begging:
Please get it right this time.
Include Saturn in your plans.
Let his structure hold your fire.
Let the next version of me last.
I have had
enough
grief
in this
place
in time.
It feels like I’m living
a thousand lifetimes of sorrow
inside one small body
in one too-long year.
We’ve done so much already.
Unburdened.
Recovered.
Ended soul contracts that stretched across centuries.
I feel them—my allies, my adversaries—
all converging here.
All dissolving.
I am blessed.
I am grateful.
I know I chose this.
And still, I’m tired.
So I’m asking you now:
Let me know peace.
If I am a Hermit,
let me dance in that role.
Let me be luminous in solitude.
Let me feel more pleasure than pain,
more grace than burden,
more ease than struggle.
Can I please learn from success now?
Can I please see myself?
Can I be a source of beauty
not just in this world,
but in every one?
Let me be proof
that beauty is power.
That it comes from within.
That it is safe. Sacred.
Holy.
I will not give up being sensitive.
But please
let my nervous system rest.
Let it hold joy
without shutting down.
Let it open
to the scent of trees,
the bloom of flowers,
the hush of stars
without fear.
I give up on having the family I longed for.
I’ve released the dream of the husband
who would hold me through it all.
I raised my children in fear,
terrified of leaving them alone in a world
so brutal to those who feel.
I made them strong.
So strong, they no longer need me.
Their hearts aren’t attuned to mine right now.
But I will always answer their call.
Please help me not take the separation personally.
Help me trust.
Help me let go.
Let them be whole.
Let them be safe.
Let them be loved.
Let them remember me with warmth.
Let them carry my love as legacy,
not as a wound.
Help us move into this next phase with grace.
Help the world be kind to them.
Help them be kind to themselves.
I know I’m not done yet.
I know I still have something left to give.
But I need it to be easier now.
I need support.
I need shelter.
I need to afford fun.
Food.
Clothes.
Hope.
Help me bring my daughter through high school with joy.
Let my son know he can always come home to love.
And me?
I am a spiritual savant.
A healer.
A poet.
A mother.
A mystic.
I want to live in safety.
In sovereignty.
In enough.
Please, Pluto
I am not resisting the transformation.
I’m just asking for it to be tender now.
Let me learn through love.
Let me grow in the sunlight.
Let this be the cycle where I rise
not from ashes
but from rest.
Final Note
If this prayer resonates with you, know that Pluto hears you too.
Transformation does not always have to be brutal.
You are allowed to ask for tenderness.
You are allowed to rise in peace. 🌑