By Laura Tormos

On Tuesday, Mercury moves out of Libra and enters Scorpio, encouraging us to probe deeper and seek truths in all that is hidden. During Mercury’s stay in Scorpio, make sure to take care of yourself and your mind—this placement can be exhausting; all the unearthing, all the bitter truths we relentlessly seek. A break from the obsession may come Thursday in the form of a refreshing new moon in Libra. New moons represent beginnings, fresh starts, a breaking of toxic rhythms. This week, set intentions that strengthen your core of self love. Remember all the times your heart has been broken; then let go. Libra reminds us that nothing comes from holding on to broken things. Libra teaches us to mend.


Sometimes, the heart calls for practicing taking up more space, for practicing stretching your arms out, holding your head high, letting your voice boom out across the streets. Sometimes the real work is sitting a little stiller, listening a little closer, making room for the people around you to move and grow and speak. Both can be necessary, and either way, this week is about paying close attention to the space you occupy in the world: How much do you take? How much do you need?


There is plenty of goodness in the world, but there’s more than that, too. You don’t need to respond to every dark day with a song in your heart. You don’t need to sparkle in the depths of every sorrow. Some days shine silver and some days glow green—some days don’t reflect any light at all. You’re full of all these types of power. Don’t let anyone else tell you how to use it or how to protect your soul. Only you can decide how you wield it.


Sometimes, it’s painful to feel your own desire, your own need, your own hunger. Enough longing can feel like a crack in your foundation, like a storm cloud ready to burst. This week, try to ride out these waves of feeling and see where they carry you. Sometimes they can bring you home again. Sometimes they can bring you back to yourself. Sometimes they can bring you somewhere you’ve never been been before.


Where does your heart go, when you’re as tired as this? Imagine swimming in a cold, clean lake—all that untouched vastness; imagine sitting in a green forest; imagine yourself sleepy and warm under clean sheets. Every day doesn’t have to be a huge, brave step forward. There are days for floating, for waiting, for rebuilding. There are days for listening to the songs that give you quiet chills instead of ones that make you sing. You can live here for now, if you need to.


It’s a strange and fragile feeling, to let this much tenderness into your own life. We talk about love like it’s a soft, silly thing, but it requires so much courage. There are weeks for suiting up for battle, but there’s redemption, too, in letting your heart crack open. There are so many different ways to need the people around you, so many ways to be needed, and this can make you brave. It can make you human. It can make you wild and free.


Look out over your city from a rooftop, a hilltop—a window far above the ground. There’s so much air and life and fire, but even in wide spaces, in green, open spaces, it can be hard just to live. And you’ve been doing the hard work of building a good life. You’re wise and you’re strong; you know how to survive. This week is for taking this hard-won knowledge and using it. You could run into the ocean, you could fight your way to freedom, you could change your whole world.


Think about how you landed in this strange life, about all the bright and boring days that brought you here. You’ve traveled so far and brought worlds into being, and now it’s time to begin planting seeds again. You can’t always know how long your ideas will germinate underground; you can’t always know how long it will take for your plans to burst into color. This is a week to save for later what you don’t know how to use yet. This is a week to care for your future.


It’s so easy to feel like you’re moving through the world solitary and invisible, but this isn’t always true. Your loneliness is real, but it’s not the only thing. It’s not the only window worth looking through, or the only force holding you to Earth. There are people all around you. What do you need from them, and how can you ask for it? What can you give?


This week, you might feel like your whole self is coming apart, breaking into pieces and patterns strange and unknown. When you walk outside on a sparkling, rainy night, when you stay up late watching lamplight pinging off the tiles in your kitchen, it might feel like your edges have lost definition, but they haven’t. This is just one way that movement announces itself. This is a marker of growth. Don’t be afraid to keep moving. You won’t lose yourself.


This week, think of the morning sun drying the dew on the grass, burning away the night’s fog and haze. Open your curtains and look out into the place where you live. This week, the world can bring you clear vision and weird new insights. It can bring you a map to navigate your own heart. It can bring you just the words you’ve been seeking. Whatever knowledge the world offers you, don’t let it curdle or wither inside you. This is knowledge to be spoken, to be shared, to be used.


This is a week for listening to thunder, turning up your music in the car, sitting next to a river that flows fast and true. This is a week for shaking every bad, helpless feeling right out of your body. You need to work to be your fullest self, but you don’t need to be more than that. No more excuses: Your voice is enough, so use it. Your heart is enough, so let it beat.


Sometimes the life you need requires loneliness, and sometimes that loneliness requires courage. It’s so hard to live in a world that refuses to know you. This is a week for tapping into your bright, hot core of bravery—it isn’t easy to be true to yourself, or the ones you love, or the world you want to build. Trust the future you see in your dreams, and trust that you know the way ahead.