When Something Shifts, Just Slightly

Notes on the edge of a solar eclipse in Aries

Today, for a few minutes, the light will change.
It doesn’t disappear. It just shifts.
The sky doesn’t fall. But it folds slightly.
And that —even if it happens often— can still be felt.

Not because it’s rare, or because it means something.
But because it alters the rhythm.
And anything that changes the rhythm leaves us thinking differently,
even if we don’t know how.

This eclipse happens in Aries, right at the new moon.
A beginning that doesn’t start with a bang.
A spark that hides first.

Maybe not to stop it—
but to keep it from looking like every other impulse we’ve known.
As if fire needed a moment of shadow
to avoid repeating itself.

There’s no need to figure it out.
No need to interpret.
Just to be. And notice.

A moment where everything stays the same…
but something has shifted,
just slightly.

And sometimes, that’s more than enough.