When Neptune Comes for the Self

A Prelude to Dissolution

There are moments when the sky doesn’t merely reflect your mood—it declares a metamorphosis. These are not symbolic shifts. They are cellular. Somatic. They undo meaning rather than offer it. Such is the nature of Neptune’s slow, inevitable ingress into Aries. And before it arrives, it sends its herald: a Venus Cazimi.

When Venus enters the heart of the Sun—when the Goddess burns in the solar crucible—it does not always bestow clarity. Sometimes, it delivers a forewarning. A soft, radiant collapse. A whisper to the soul: “This version of you cannot go where you are going.”

You may not rise. You may dissolve.

Neptune does not invite surrender. It demands it. It unravels illusions not to liberate the mind, but to return it to its rawest form: unknowing. And when Neptune touches Aries—the archetype of primal identity, instinct, and sovereignty—the dissolution is not gentle. It is archetypal. The scaffolding of self collapses. The ‘I’ is stripped, exposed, and returned to its molten core.

If you’ve been feeling frayed, emptied, or strangely suspended, you may already be sensing the tides. You may find yourself exhausted by roles that once felt sacred. You may begin questioning the identities you’ve built with such devotion—healer, guide, teacher, creator—and wonder if they are still yours, or if they have calcified into masks.

This is the work of Neptune. It doesn't promise new beliefs. It washes them away. It doesn’t offer soothing. It offers silence. It doesn’t resolve confusion. It baptises you in it.

The Venus Cazimi arrived like a lantern, illuminating the ways we perform to be accepted, to be loved, to be safe. It invited a reckoning with the inner theatre of performance. You may notice that giving has become depleting. That softness has become armour. That beauty has become burden. These recognitions are not failures. They are signs that your soul is preparing to shed.

And then—perhaps quietly, perhaps violently—the fracture comes. The place where your roles no longer protect you. Where your truths feel dangerous. Where even your language begins to betray you. This is not a descent into chaos. It is a sacred sorting.

Neptune in Aries will not test you. It will sort you. It will reveal whether you can let the identity collapse without rushing to rebuild it. Whether you can exist without narrative. Whether you can let go without demanding clarity.

Astrologers often describe transits as opportunities. But Neptune isn’t an opportunity. It is an undoing. It will not invite your ego into a workshop. It will flood the room, and you will have no choice but to learn how to breathe underwater.

And perhaps, amidst the ruins of certainty, something else will rise. Not another role. Not another system. But something wordless.

A signal. A shimmer. A truth that is not made, but remembered.

If you are feeling the ache, the confusion, the shattering—it does not mean you are failing. It means you are being initiated. You are not being asked to believe something new. You are being asked to let go of what you thought belief was for.

Neptune does not offer a new self. It returns you to the ocean and asks: Can you float here? Without title. Without tether. Without certainty.

This is not a test. This is a threshold.

And the only way forward is through the flood.

— Venus