New Moon in Cancer | Jupiter Cazimi | June 2025

Wombquake: The Sacred Collapse and the Birth of Discernment
A Transmission from Nephthys, Lady of the Threshold

Before we begin the transmission, I invite you to join us for our New Moon in Cancer ceremony tomorrow at 17.00 BST, where we will be gathering in prayer and ritual to anchor in this blessed new moon.

Additionally, in Alchemy Queens Academy, we have concluded a 4 module workshop that explored the various metaphysical cosmologies as a foundation to build upon our next series of classes and masterclasses. I’m excited to announce that in the next classes, we delve deeper into the psychic realms, where we begin to explore the dream world and the Laws of the Universe. Alchemy Queens Academy is truly shaping up to be a place where the new human who will build the new earth is for. I hope you will consider joining us in the near future.

There are seasons when life begins with light.
And there are seasons, like this one, when life begins with an ending.

This New Moon in Cancer—conjunct an exalted Jupiter—is not a new chapter. It is a burial. A dismantling. A sacred undoing.
It arrives not with hope, but with truth.
Not with inspiration, but with precision.
And it does not speak in the voice of Auset—the one who rebuilds what was lost—
but in the voice of Nephthys, the sister who witnesses what must be left behind.

Nephthys, neter of death, mourning, and the sacred threshold, rules this lunation.
She is the forgotten face of Cancer—the one who keeps the house, not to fill it, but to prepare it for what must be emptied.

This is her moon.
And her message is clear:

Let it die. The story. The mask. The performance. The illusion of safety.
Let what is no longer true be grieved and released—so that truth itself may live.

❖ The Mother as Architect of Collapse

Cancer is the sign of origin, ancestry, belonging.
But it is also the sign of psychic sediment—of everything we've absorbed in the name of love, tradition, and protection.
And when Jupiter, the planet of belief and expansion, is exalted here and conjunct both Sun and Moon, we are shown just how much of that sediment we’ve confused for soil.

The maternal becomes the mirror.
We see the houses we’ve built out of emotional obligation.
We feel the boundaries we have failed to hold, the narratives we’ve inherited, the systems we’ve protected despite knowing better. And the walls we’ve built out of arrogance and narcissism.

This is not the soft mother.
This is the mother who says: no more pretending.
This is Nephthys.

❖ Mars in Virgo: Precision as a Spiritual Practice

Mars sextiles this lunation from Virgo, offering a counterpoint to Cancer’s emotional density.
This is not rage. It’s clarity.

Mars in Virgo doesn’t cut in anger—it cuts to cleanse.
It doesn’t act quickly—it acts correctly.

Together with Jupiter, this aspect demands we apply our discernment to what we’ve been sentimental about.
It asks:

What have you been calling love, when it’s actually avoidance?
What have you protected under the guise of care, when in truth, it was fear?

Virgo doesn’t romanticise.
And under this sky, neither can we.

❖ Mercury Square Chiron: The Inarticulate Truth

Mercury in Cancer squaring Chiron in Aries invites a rupture in language.
You may find yourself unable to speak clearly. You may stammer, or say the wrong thing.
You may weep where you meant to explain.

This is not failure.
This is the mind cracking open to reveal the wound it has been editing out.

The stories we’ve told to keep ourselves safe—“I’m okay,” “I’ve forgiven,” “I know what I’m doing”—may no longer hold.
And what emerges in their place is raw, fragmented, but real.

This square teaches us that the voice of truth is not always eloquent.
Sometimes it arrives as a tremble, a silence, or a scream.
And all of these are valid.

❖ Nephthys: The One Who Presides Over What Ends

Nephthys is not an archetype of rebirth. She is not concerned with what comes after.
Her gift is the sacredness of closure.
Of stillness.
Of knowing what no longer belongs, and letting it go without fanfare.

She is the neter who kept vigil as Osiris died.
The one who did not try to save him, but ensured the space of death was dignified.
And in this lunation, she walks beside us as we dismantle our own false sanctuaries.

She reminds us that healing does not always look like growth.
Sometimes it looks like refusal.
Sometimes it looks like stopping.

“You are not required to rebuild what you’ve outgrown,” she says.
“You are only required to see it clearly, and step back.”

To invoke Nephthys is to call in a mature form of emotional integrity.
It is to know when a cycle has ended—even if no one claps, and nothing blooms immediately afterward.

❖ Saturn and Neptune in Aries: Disillusionment as Initiation

The separating square from Jupiter to Saturn and Neptune in Aries still permeates the field.
And what it leaves behind is not destruction—but disillusionment.

This is the collapse of:

• Projected authority

• Unrealistic narratives

• Grandiose spiritual mythologies built on shaky ground

It is the confrontation with what we thought we believed—what we clung to as absolute—and the subtle, painful realisation that it was never that simple.

But this is not a failure.
This is the beginning of adult spirituality.
Stripped of romance.
Anchored in reality.

❖ If You Are in Collapse

If you find yourself overwhelmed, brittle, trembling—
You are not regressing.
You are passing through the exact threshold Nephthys guards.

This isn’t breakdown.
It is completion.

You are not being asked to move on.
You are being asked to stay long enough to recognise the architecture of what you built out of fear.
And to let it go—without shame, without needing to explain it away.

❖ A Closing Reflection

This New Moon is not about manifestation.
It is about liberation through honesty.

Let yourself ask:

What part of me have I been embalming?
What have I kept alive out of obligation, guilt, or image?
What would it mean to let it die?

And when the answers come, allow them to dissolve what they must.
Then sit quietly. Let the emptiness speak.

Nephthys is not here to fix.
She is here to remind you that endings, too, are sacred.

Let this be your vow:

I release the performance.
I release the persona.
I release the need to hold it all together.

I will rebuild, yes—but not today.
Today, I let truth do its work.
And I thank the part of me that held on this long.

This is the wombquake.
This is the turning.
This is the initiation we are not meant to master—only to honour.