Capricorn, Solstice, & The New Moon all meet?

Have you heard the story of the Moon that went dark on the doorstep of winter/summer, when Saturn keeps the gate, and the world turns without applause?

She arrived emptied of light, right as the Sun reached its farthest breath, the hinge of the year creaking open. No omen. No revelation. Just timing, precise and unforgiving. Sagittarius had spent itself on stories, arrows fired past the edge of the map. Capricorn did not listen. Capricorn counted stones, measured what could endure frost or fire, asked what would still stand when the season changed its mind.

Saturn watched. Not as judge, not as saviour, but as gravity made conscious. Whatever was hollow could not cross. Whatever was heavy enough was allowed through. The Moon said nothing. She does not negotiate at thresholds. She only darkens so you can feel what you’re already carrying. And the world turned.

Not toward hope. Not toward despair. Toward consequence.

That is the story. It is told twice a year.

This is the last Sagittarius New Moon at 12.25 pm ASDT, December 20th 2025, before Saturn and Neptune leave Pisces and enter Aries in 2026. Astrologically, that marks the end of a dissolving era and the start of a raw, volatile rebuilding phase

People desperately want answers. The world is structurally incapable of giving clean ones right now.

The old stories are dead. The new ones are not ready. Meaning itself is under siege. Cynicism is understandable but corrosive. Certainty is seductive but dangerous. The task is to keep moving, choosing, building, and caring anyway.

We have now stepped into the energies of Capricorn- 2.20 am 22nd December 2025 ADST

Capricorn arrives like the sound of stone settling into place. No fanfare. No announcement. Just weight, gravity and consequence. Where Sagittarius blows the doors open, Capricorn walks in, surveys the structure, and decides what will still be standing in twenty years.

This season does not inspire you. It assesses you. It asks what you’ve built, what you’ve avoided, and what you’re prepared to carry forward without excuses.

Capricorn does not seduce with possibility.

It commands with reality.

My relationship with Capricorn is not abstract. It lives in my spine, in the way I understand time, responsibility, and the quiet pressure that shapes a life from the inside out. Capricorn energy is not dramatic. It is relentless.

It teaches through accumulation rather than revelation. Through repetition. Through weight. Through the slow burn of mastery earned the hard way. You do not feel Capricorn all at once. You feel it over the years, in what remains when novelty has expired.

Capricorn is where astrology stops flattering and starts telling the truth.

If we are going to step into this season properly, it deserves more than productivity slogans or tired talk of ambition. Capricorn is ancient, mythic, and psychologically severe in the best sense. It governs the architecture of civilisation itself. Law. Timekeeping. Authority. Legacy. The long memory of effort.

This sign does not care about your potential.

It cares what you do with it, consistently, when nobody is watching.

Capricorn rises from the oldest sky lore as a creature of thresholds. The Babylonians knew it as the Goat-Fish, a hybrid being that climbed mountains and swam abyssal depths. This was no aesthetic choice. It was a precise psychological map.

Capricorn belongs to the edge between survival and sovereignty, between instinct and order, between chaos and civilisation.

The Greeks later associated Capricorn with Pan, the wild god of nature, panic and instinctual terror, who dove into the sea to escape the monster Typhon and transformed into a half-goat, half-fish to survive. That myth matters.

Capricorn is not born refined. It earns refinement. It begins in instinct and fear, then builds discipline to rise above it. The goat climbs. The fish endures pressure. Together, they describe a being that survives extremes and turns endurance into authority.

Capricorn is not about being born powerful.

It is about becoming unshakeable. The ruling planet is Saturn, and there is no mistake here. Saturn does not grant. Saturn withholds.

It compresses, delays, tests and hardens. It governs time, consequence, boundaries and decay. Saturn is the principle that says if it cannot last, it does not matter. Under Saturn’s rule, nothing is free. Everything must be earned, paid for, and maintained.

Saturn eats his children in myth, not because he is evil, but because unchecked creation becomes chaos. He represents the law that limits excess so that structure can exist. Capricorn inherits this ethic.

Growth without form collapses.

Freedom without discipline rots.

Inspiration without follow-through is meaningless.

Where Jupiter expands, Saturn refines.

Where Jupiter dreams, Saturn builds.

Where Jupiter says yes, Saturn asks how, when, and at what cost.

Capricorn does not reject ambition.

It demands competence.

The goat is central for a reason. Goats climb what others avoid. They move slowly, deliberately, with impossible balance on unforgiving terrain. They do not rush. They do not perform. They conserve energy and reach summits that impulsive creatures never touch.

Capricorn ambition works the same way. Patient. Strategic. Often invisible until undeniable.

The fish tail matters just as much. Capricorn rules the deep winter of the zodiac, where light is scarce, and survival depends on endurance. The fish represents emotional depth, ancestral memory, and the ability to withstand pressure without cracking.

Capricorn feels far more than it shows.

It simply refuses to let emotion derail function.

This is a sign that knows how to carry weight without collapsing under it.

When the Sun moves into Capricorn, the tone of the year shifts sharply. The party ends. The ledger opens. Time becomes audible.

This season is not about becoming more.

It is about becoming exact.

Three currents define the Capricorn season.

First, accountability. Capricorn strips away fantasy and exposes the scaffolding of your life. Structures that cannot support your future begin to creak; what you avoid now compounds later. Consequences arrive not as punishment, but as information.

Second, authority. Not borrowed authority. Not aesthetic authority. Earned authority. Capricorn asks where you have mastery, where you have discipline, and where you are still improvising without foundation. It rewards those willing to apprentice themselves to time, patience and repetition.

Third, legacy. Capricorn thinks in decades, not moods. It asks what will remain after you are bored, tired or gone. Reputation. Craft. Systems. Commitments. What holds.

Capricorn is not cold. It is concentrated.

Every sign has a shadow, and Capricorn’s is heavy when ignored.

Rigidity replaces wisdom. Control masquerades as order. Authority hardens into domination. The mountain turns into a fortress. Emotional suppression follows. Vulnerability is learned as costly, so feeling is outsourced to productivity. Success arrives without satisfaction—stability without intimacy. There is also the trap of worth equalling usefulness. Love must be earned. Rest justified—existence placed on permanent probation.

The deepest shadow is the fear of failure disguised as perfectionism. Capricorn delays, over-prepares, or carries everything alone to avoid being seen as inadequate. Saturn’s tests become internalised as self-surveillance.

At its worst, Capricorn becomes brittle.

At its best, it becomes sovereign.

The psychology of Capricorn is mastery through endurance. This is the sign of elders, architects, strategists and keepers of time. It understands that meaning is built, not discovered. Respect accumulates. Freedom is a by-product of discipline, not rebellion.

Capricorn’s gift is longevity. Its flaw is austerity.

When balanced, Capricorn becomes the quiet force others rely on when chaos hits. The one who holds the line. The one who finishes what others abandon. Authority felt, not announced.

This New Moon arrives at 28 degrees Sagittarius, a threshold degree closing the arc of meaning before the Sun crosses into Capricorn. It is not a beginning in the usual sense. It is a compression point. Sagittarius governs belief, narrative and interpretation. At 28 degrees, those stories are exhausted. They have carried us as far as they can.

This New Moon does not ask for new beliefs. It asks for silence where belief once filled the gap. The question is no longer, "What do I believe?” I” It is what remains true when belief is no longer propping me up. Over time (Saturn), the old explanations will loosen, not because they were wrong, but because they are no longer sufficient.

Astrology doesn’t guarantee outcomes. It works by changing conditions. No Moon changes “the course” in a universal, cinematic way. Lunations do not cause events. They shift the field in which events become more or less likely, and they do so unevenly.

A New Moon is a reset of orientation, not destiny. A New Moon plants a seed in the psyche and in collective attention. Whether anything visible grows depends on:

• where it lands in a chart

• what aspects are formed

• what’s already unstable or ripe

• the person’s capacity to respond consciously

• The longer transits are already at work

Most people experience it as a mood, pressure, friction, or something they can't name. That doesn’t make the Moon unimportant. It means astrology operates on thresholds, not fireworks.

Why do some astrologers call this one “important”? They’re not wrong, but they’re usually sloppy with a narrative.

This New Moon matters because it sits at:

• the last degrees of Sagittarius

• under Saturn–Neptune in Pisces

• weeks before a generational sign change into Aries

That makes it a terminal lunation, not a dramatic one.

Terminal lunations close chapters. They don’t announce themselves with miracles. They finalise internal decisions, exhaust old narratives, and dry up belief systems that were already failing. Often nothing “happens”. Something stops working.

That’s quieter. And more consequential. Why doesn’t everyone have a life-changing experience?

Because astrology is not egalitarian.

People with planets or angles near late mutable degrees will feel this as a real pivot. Others will register it as background radiation. Some will feel tired, flat, disillusioned, or oddly relieved. Some won’t notice it at all.

That isn’t a failure of the astrology. That’s how a distributed system behaves. Energy doesn’t manifest uniformly. Think in terms of pressure systems, not moments.

This New Moon compresses themes already in play:

• erosion of shared meaning

• loss of faith in narratives

• exhaustion with certainty

• distrust of authorities

• disorientation around truth

If those themes are already active in someone’s life, the lunation sharpens them. If not, it passes like weather they’re not standing in. The mistake people make is confusing symbolic importance with experiential intensity.

This Moon is symbolically important because it articulates the condition we’re in. It names the problem. It doesn’t solve it. Astrology rarely does.

The real work happens across:

• the Saturn–Neptune conjunction in 2026

• the shift from mutable dissolution to cardinal action

• the slow rebuilding of meaning under uncertainty

This lunation is a punctuation mark, not the sentence.

The core principle

Astrological “energy” isn’t a force. It’s permission and constraint.

It permits specific responses.

It constrains others.

It does not compel.

Some people will change course because the ground beneath their old path finally gave way. Others will keep walking as if nothing happened. Both are accurate expressions of the same sky.

That’s the honest mechanics.

Currently, it is the solstice, not a celebration of light so much as a recognition of the limit.

At the winter solstice, the Sun reaches its lowest arc—darkness reaches its peak. Growth pauses. The solar force withdraws. Not as a weakness. More as conservation.

Sagittarius seeks meaning through expansion.

Capricorn seeks truth through containment.

Capricorn season begins at the darkest point of the year. It does not promise comfort. It promises endurance. It teaches that what survives the dark is not what shines brightest, but what is structurally sound.

Capricorn is often mischaracterised as cold, rigid, or purely material. This is a shallow reading.

Capricorn governs the invisible frameworks that support life. Bone. Bedrock. Root systems. Ancient boundaries. Deep time beneath the surface of things. Older cosmologies linked Capricorn not only to Saturn and time, but to the threshold between worlds, the liminal terrain where form crystallises out of formlessness.

This is why Capricorn has long been linked with the fae and elementals. Not the playful, glittering versions, but the older, more intelligent ones. Custodians of land, stone and passage.

They respond to respect, not desire. Capricorn’s magic is quiet. It works through alignment with natural law.

Spirit does not float above matter. Spirit inhabits structure. The fae do not live in fantasy realms. They live at the edges of forests, in old hills, in caves, in places where time behaves differently. These are Capricorn places. Ancient places. Places shaped slowly.

To work with Capricorn energy is to understand that manifestation is not about wishing harder. It is about choosing what will endure. This is also why Capricorn initiation often comes through responsibility, loss or constraint, not as punishment, but as refinement. What cannot be sustained is released. What remains is essential.

The Sagittarius New Moon clears the mental field. The solstice arrests motion. Capricorn receives what remains.

Between belief and embodiment.

Between story and structure.

Between vision and responsibility.

What is carried forward is not an idea, but a commitment to reality.

Capricorn does not ask what you hope for. It asks what you are willing to build slowly, quietly, and with integrity.

The mystical side of Capricorn is not decorative. It is functional. These materials support Saturnian work: containment, stamina, grief alchemy, boundary repair, and long-duration focus.

Totems. These are only a few; there are many, including the Owl and the Unicorn.

Mountain goat: deliberate ascent and sovereign pacing.

Tortoise: patience, longevity, unshakeable progress.

Crow: ancestral memory, long sight, keeper of thresholds.

Herbs

Comfrey for bone and structure.

Vetiver for grounding and stability.

Burdock root for deep cleansing and resilience.

Cypress for grief, endings and dignity.

Oils

Myrrh for solemn strength and ancestral connection.

Patchouli for grounding ambition into matter.

Vetiver for nervous system stability.

Cypress for emotional containment without suppression.

Crystals

Onyx for boundaries and self-mastery.

Garnet for sustained vitality.

Smoky quartz for endurance under pressure.

Black tourmaline for protection against depletion.

Hematite for grounding authority into the body.

Tiger iron suits Capricorn particularly well. A composite of tiger eye, hematite and jasper. Fire, earth and ironed will. It supports stamina, focus and long-term effort without burnout.

Saturnian Alchemy

Time

Lead is Saturn’s metal.

Black and deep indigo are its colours.

Contraction, limitation and crystallisation as principles.

Bones, teeth and skin as bodily correspondence.

Cold-dry temperament.

Saturday is the planetary day.

The scythe and the hourglass, as symbols of time, are made visible.

Capricorn is a cardinal Earth sign under Saturn’s rulership. It initiates through structure. It begins by setting limits. It builds by respecting gravity. It knows freedom comes from form. Capricorn season is not kind, but it is honest. It replaces fantasies with foundations. It thins excuses. It makes seriousness sacred.

Your life is not a mood board. It is a structure. Structures either stand or they do not. This tone only feels strange during the holidays if Christmas is mistaken for joy instead of what it often is: survival theatre.

Capricorn rules winter in the north and summer in the south, the season of extremes rather than comfort.

It governs scarcity, inheritance, duty, and endurance. Christmas lands here on purpose, at the solstice hinge of the year, when light is at its minimum or maximum, and warmth is not assumed but consciously made and maintained by human effort.

We gather. We repeat symbols. We exchange objects. We rehearse continuity. And Saturn nods.

The evergreen tree proves life persists. The food is heavy because winter demands calories and memory. Gifts are obligations wrapped in paper, markers of alliance and hierarchy rather than whimsy. Even the timing is administrative. Close the year. Balance the ledger. Reinforce bonds before the climb begins again.

Capricorn does not erase joy.

It disciplines it. It insists joy survives weather, time and consequence, or it is decorative nonsense. Pleasure becomes tradition. Warmth becomes structure. Love becomes something you show up for, even when you are tired.

That gravity is the point. Put this holiday in a softer sign, and it would evaporate. Capricorn makes it last.

If you honour this season, it will not make you happier. It will make you sturdier.

And sturdiness is what lets joy last.

I want to honour what this season has actually asked of us. Not insight. Not optimism. But endurance. The strain, the tension, the endings that did not arrive cleanly. The way loss lodged itself not only in the heart, but in the body, the breath, the nervous system. Grief does not move on command. It must travel its full passage through each soul, through muscle and memory, until it finds a place to rest.

I know this intimately. My life has been struck again and again over these years, and there were moments when the grief felt permanent, as if it would never loosen its grip, as if breathing would always require effort.

But it does release. Not all at once. Not into clarity. It releases just enough to let air back in, even when you still have no idea what forward looks like, or what love will ask of you next.

This is where belief is required. Not belief in outcomes. Not belief in stories.

Belief in the soul itself, the one true presence that cannot be taken, cannot be corrupted, cannot be exhausted.

When nothing else is reliable, we allow that presence to lead us through the dark, back toward the heart, where the only light that matters exists.

Measured not by promises. Not by certainty. But by weight.

The feather.

The heart.

And the truth that survives the crossing.

Wishing You All Peaceful and Joyful Gatherings!

With Grace and Stalight

Delahrose

House of Living Alchemy

Depth • Design • Direction

Within – Without

Author, Fatima’s Alchemy: A Treasure to Behold

Hardcover available via major booksellers