New Moon in Scorpio: The Phoenix Moon

 

On Monday, November 9, the moon goes dark at 2:02 in the morning, Eastern time, and it goes dark in Scorpio. Every new moon is a beginning, but Scorpio does not begin anything lightly. Scorpio is the sign of endings that tell the truth — the shed skin, the closed door, the thing you already know is finished and have not yet said out loud. That is why we call this one the phoenix moon. The phoenix does not rise in spite of the fire. It rises because something finally burned all the way down, and what was real survived it.

This new moon also arrives while Mercury is still retrograde, with Mercury turning direct on Friday, November 13. So this is not a moon for racing a brand-new plan out the door. It is a moon for refining one: deciding honestly, writing carefully, and letting the intention be true before it is fast. Name what is ending now. Let the steps come after Friday, when the road clears.

[PHOTO — place here: the black candle and black obsidian still, confirmed at the November 8 preview]

Our Crystal of the Week is black obsidian, and it is Scorpio's stone for honest work. Obsidian is volcanic glass, born in fire and cooled in darkness, and it has always been the stone you hold when you are ready to see a thing as it is. It shows you what is finished, and it guards you while you face it. Keep yours close from Monday on, while you decide what rises next.

THE WORKING — A NEW MOON REFLECTION FOR SCORPIO

This is a modern reflection from our own shop, offered as a suggestion for your own practice — not an old tradition, and not the only way. Work it on the night of Monday, November 9, after dark.

1) One black candle. Light it and name, out loud, the one thing that is finished. Not the list of everything — the one true thing. Let the candle burn while you work, and let that naming be the whole of the goodbye.

2) One honest page. On a clean page, write the intention for what rises in its place. Write it in the present tense, as if it is already unfolding. Keep it specific. Name the feeling, not just the outcome — not only what you want to have, but how you want to live inside it. Sign it and date it: November 9, 2026, the phoenix moon.

3) The stone in your pocket. Carry the obsidian all week, through Mercury's turning on Friday. Every time your hand finds it, remember the order of this moon: first the truth, then the intention, then the steps.

When you are done, put the page somewhere you will see it — inside a journal, under the stone on your altar, at the front of a drawer you open every morning. An intention you never look at again is just a wish. An intention you meet every day becomes a direction.

Care note: This working is offered for spiritual and cultural purposes only; it is not medical, legal or financial advice. Never leave a burning candle unattended, set it on a heat-safe surface away from anything flammable, and extinguish it before you leave the room or sleep. Trust your own judgment and your own traditions, always — if a step does not sit right with you, change it or leave it out.

Tomorrow, Tuesday, November 10, our Stories carry the companion piece: how to write a new moon intention that works, one step at a time. Tonight is for naming. Tomorrow is for writing it well.

So tell us, my dears: under this phoenix moon, what is finished — and what are you ready to be reborn into?

A New Age Phoenix

Rise · Transform · Ignite

NOVEMBER HOROSCOPES

 NOVEMBER HOROSCOPES 

The Beaver Moon rises full on November 24th, and the year is gathering itself in, Phoenix tribe. Mercury and Venus both turn forward on the 13th, the Scorpio new moon plants deep on the 9th, and the Sagittarius season lights the fire on the 22nd. Here's what the month holds for your sign—find yours below.👇

♈ ARIES (Mar 21 – Apr 19)

November asks you to finish, not start—for once. The tangle of the last few weeks unknots after the 13th, when Mercury turns forward. Clear the old debt, the old grudge, and the old tab, and walk into the fire season light.

♉ TAURUS (Apr 20 – May 20)

Shared things get honest this month—money, promises, the unspoken arrangements. The Scorpio new moon on the 9th is your moment to renegotiate whatever isn't fair. By the Beaver Moon on the 24th, you'll know exactly what you're keeping.

♊ GEMINI (May 21 – Jun 20)

The full Beaver Moon rises in YOUR sign on November 24th—your spotlight, and a supermoon at that. A conversation you've been circling finally lands. Say the true thing kindly and watch a door open.

♋ CANCER (Jun 21 – Jul 22)

Home and table carry November for you. Gather your people close, feed them well, and let gratitude do the heavy lifting. Small repairs to your daily rhythm early in the month pay off all winter long.

♌ LEO (Jul 23 – Aug 22)

Your fire banked low in the autumn deep—Sagittarius season on the 22nd starts to kick it back up. After the 13th, when Venus turns forward, create something just for the joy of it. Your sparkle returns with interest.

♍ VIRGO (Aug 23 – Sep 22)

Mercury, your ruler, turns forward on the 13th—the crossed wires and the second-guessing ease off. The new moon on the 9th asks what home needs from you. Fix the foundation, not the facade.

♎ LIBRA (Sep 23 – Oct 22)

Venus, your ruler, has been walking backward through your heart's accounts—she turns forward on the 13th, and so do you. A money or love question pending since October finally gets its answer. Spend on what lasts.

♏ SCORPIO (Oct 23 – Nov 21)

The new moon is in YOUR sign on November 9th—your true new year starts there, in the dark, on purpose. Plant one intention you don't announce to anyone. Mercury turns forward in your sign on the 13th, and your words carry weight again. Use them precisely.

♐ SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22 – Dec 21)

Your season opens November 22nd, and the month hands you back your fire. Rest and finish old business before your sun rises—then set the big goal in writing. The Beaver Moon on the 24th lights your road out.

♑ CAPRICORN (Dec 22 – Jan 19)

November is the foundation weather for you. Quiet work, honest budgets, early nights—the unglamorous disciplines that make December yours. A community tie strengthened this month becomes load-bearing later.

♒ AQUARIUS (Jan 20 – Feb 18)

Your people are gathering, and you're part of the reason. Show up—the reunion, the meeting, the message you keep meaning to send. After the 13th, a stalled plan moves again. Push it gently.

♓ PISCES (Feb 19 – Mar 20)

Deep waters suit you, and the Scorpio new moon on the 9th is a tide in your favor. A dream you've been carrying quietly deserves one practical step this month. When Sagittarius season opens, share the vision—someone wants to help build it.

🔥 YOUR TURN 🔥

Comment on your sign ✨ if you're claiming this energy—and tell us, did this resonate?

Tag your zodiac bestie so they can check theirs.

An ancestor altar

An ancestor altar does not belong to one path—many traditions keep a place for their dead, and the building of it is simple. Five things: a photo, a candle, a glass of water, a small offering (bread, fruit, or their favorite treat), and flowers or herbs. Whatever your tradition, remembering is holy. Whose photo goes on yours first? 

#AncestorAltar #Samhain #ANewAgePhoenix 

 Fèt Gede: The Feast of the Gede

Two weeks ago, on Day 24 of our Caribbean Folklore Month, we knocked at the cemetery gate and met Baron Samedi, head of the Gede. We made a promise at that gate: at his feast, we will return, and go deeper. On November 1 and 2 the feast is here, and we are keeping our word.

THE FEAST

Fèt Gede, the Festival of the Dead, is kept in Haiti on November 1 and 2. The cemeteries fill. Families come to the graves of their people with coffee, rum, and spicy food; they clean the stones, they bring flowers, they speak the names of their dead aloud, and they stay — talking, singing, laughing, grieving, all of it at the same table. Above every other place stands the great National Cemetery in Port-au-Prince, honored at the heart of the feast. People dress in the colors of the Gede: black, purple, and white.

This is a living feast in a living faith. Haitian Vodou is not a story people tell; it is a religion people practice, and the Gede are not characters. They are lwa — spirits — and this is their festival.

THE GEDE, THE BARON, AND MAMAN BRIGITTE

The Gede are the family of the dead: the spirits of the cemetery, of the ancestors, of everyone who has crossed over. They guard memory. They are famous, too, for everything a graveyard is not supposed to hold — loud laughter, rough jokes, dancing — because they teach that grief and joy are not opposites. They sit at the same table.

At their head stands Baron Samedi. Tradition holds that the first man buried in any cemetery becomes the Baron's own there, its guardian; the first woman buried becomes Maman Brigitte's. Maman Brigitte, his wife, rules the Gede beside him and guards the gravestones, the graves of women above all. Her name carries a crossing of its own: of all the lwa, she alone is traced not to West Africa but to the Irish indentured people carried to Haiti, and behind her stands Brigid — a goddess of the Celts before she was a saint. (In later tellings, and in many English-language books, you will meet this same pair as Baron and Gran — Gran Brijit. That is the Baron's wife under her later name; this telling keeps her first one.)

The Baron is a healer as well as a guardian of the dead: when he refuses a grave, the old people say, no grave can be dug, and the sick one rises. He is a protector of children. And at his feast he is the host — the one who stands laughing at the gate, reminding everyone who passes that the dead are not gone while their names are still spoken.

WHAT THE FEAST TEACHES

Remembrance, in the Gede's world, is not a feeling. It is a practice. You say the name. You pour the coffee. You tell the story at the table, and you laugh in the middle of your grief, because the laughter is part of the honoring, not a break in it.

So today, in whatever way is yours, speak a name aloud — one of your people, gone and not forgotten. Say it like they can hear you. The Gede would say they can.

Care note: this post is shared for spiritual and cultural reflection. If you light a candle today, never leave it burning unattended. Trust your own judgment and your own traditions above any page, this one included.

Day of the Dead: Setting a Place for Those Who Came Before

Day of the Dead: Setting a Place for Those Who Came Before

On the first and second of November, families across Mexico and throughout the Mexican diaspora do something beautiful: they set a place at the table for their dead.

Día de los Muertos—the Day of the Dead—is not Mexico's Halloween, and it is not a day of mourning in the way many of us were taught to grieve. It is a homecoming. For these two days, the veil between the living and the dead is understood to be thin, and the spirits of loved ones are welcomed back—not feared, not pitied, but fed, honored, and told the family news.

November 1 is Día de los Angelitos, the Day of the Little Angels, when the spirits of children who have died are welcomed home. November 2 is Día de los Difuntos, for the adults—parents, grandparents, ancestors, and friends. The roots of the celebration reach back to the Indigenous peoples of Mexico, including Mexica (Aztec) observances honoring the dead, woven together over centuries with the Catholic feasts of All Saints and All Souls.

THE OFRENDA

At the center of the celebration stands the ofrenda, the home altar built to receive the returning spirits. Every element on it is there for a reason:

- Photographs of the loved ones being honored, so their faces are present and remembered.

- Marigolds—cempasúchil, the flower of the dead. Their fierce orange color and strong scent are said to guide the spirits home, petals sometimes scattered as a path from the cemetery to the house.

- Candles, whose flames are light and hope—a way for the spirits to find their path in the dark.

- Water: set out so the travellers can drink after their long journey and wash before they feast.

- Favorite foods of the departed—the dishes they loved in life—along with pan de muerto, the sweet, round "bread of the dead" baked only for this season.

- Copal incense, burned in Mexico since long before the Spanish came. Its smoke purifies the space, and its scent helps guide the spirits in.

- Personal things—a tool, a book, a beloved object—and often sugar skulls inscribed with the names of the dead, sweet reminders that death is part of life, not its enemy.

Families also gather at the graveside, cleaning the stones, laying flowers, and sharing food, music, and stories. Grief is there, of course. But so is laughter. The dead are teased, toasted, and caught up on everything they have missed.

A DIFFERENT TRADITION, A SHARED HEART

This is Mexico's tradition, and it deserves to be met on its own terms—it is not Samhain, and it is not Caribbean folklore, though all three turn toward the ancestors in this season. So many of you keep ancestor altars of your own, light your candles, and speak to those who came before you. Different roads, the same shared heart: the people we love do not stop mattering to us because they have crossed over, and love, like the marigold, is a guide home.

If you keep an altar in your own tradition, the days around November 1 and 2 are a tender time to refresh it: a clean cloth, a fresh candle, a glass of water, a name spoken aloud. (And the practical word, always: never leave a burning candle unattended, and keep flames well clear of flowers and photographs.)

Our new A New Age Phoenix store opens on Tuesday, and the altar candles, copal, and holders many of you ask us for will be gathered there when the doors open.

Tell me in the comments: if you could set one place at your table this November for someone who has crossed over, who would it be—and what favorite dish of theirs would you put beside their photograph?

— Bibi

 

Our Sun May Have Had a Twin

This is a sad story about lost siblings.

The sun may be the lone star in our solar system today, but that may not have always been the case. Scientists at UC Berkeley and Harvard University say they've found proof that most stars form in pairs or even as triplets. However, they don't always stay together for their whole existence. The research has been accepted by the Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society.

Close, but Not Too Close
Scientists have known for a while that some stars have companions while others don't. To figure out what could be behind the variation, the teams zeroed in on Perseus, what they call a typical constellation. They used data from a survey called VANDAM that categorizes all of the young stars making up Perseus. Remember, in galaxy terms, we're talking less than four million years old.

The researchers found 45 single-star systems, and 55 stars in multiple-star systems. Five of those in multiple-star systems were not binary. They used statistics to try to explain this.


This is a radio image of a very young binary star system, less than about 1 million years old, that formed within a dense core (oval outline) in the Perseus molecular cloud. All stars likely form as binaries within dense cores.
Image: SCUBA-2 survey image by Sarah Sadavoy, CfA.
"The new assertion is based on a radio survey of a giant molecular cloud filled with recently formed stars in the constellation Perseus, and a mathematical model that can explain the Perseus observations only if all sunlike stars are born with a companion," according to a Berkeley media release. The researchers say this is an important next step to take knowledge beyond computer simulations.

Although they're considered binary, these stars aren't identical, or even geographically very close to one another. The researchers noted pairs were at least 500 times further away from each other than the Earth is to the sun (on average).



This infrared image from the Hubble Space Telescope contains a bright, fan-shaped object (lower right quadrant) thought to be a binary star that emits light pulses as the two stars interact.
Image: NASA, ESA and J. Muzerolle, STScI
Companion Stars and Dinosaurs
In our solar system, this means what some call the twin of the sun, known as Nemesis, could really have existed. The researchers think if it did exist, Nemesis "escaped" long ago and is somewhere else in the Milky Way.

In a piece for The Conversation, Lancaster University's Konstantinos Dimopoulos addressed the issue. According to the scientist, while most accept that a comet or an asteroid is to blame for killing the dinosaurs, there isn't full agreement on what caused the asteroid or comet to hit. Could the sun's former companion star be the culprit?

"Every 25 million years or so, it makes a pass closer to the sun, which could result in enhanced comet activity, because of its gravitational pull," Dimopoulos wrote of common thinking surrounding the rumored Nemesis. "This is not an unreasonable hypothesis, since the majority of stars belong to systems with multiple stars. However, brown dwarfs are relatively uncommon, and Nemesis has not been observed (yet)."

So the next time you look up at the sun (don't do that or you'll go blind, but we digress), give thanks for that lonely star that gives us life, even though its possible twin abandoned it long ago.

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Learn more about the residents of our solar system in "Solar System: An Exploration of the Bodies that Orbit the Sun" by Marcus Chown. We handpick reading recommendations we think you may like. If you choose to make a purchase, Curiosity will get a share of the sale.

https://curiosity.com/topics/our-sun-may-have-had-a-twin-curiosity?utm_campaign=daily-digest&utm_source=sendgrid&utm_medium=email

Healing crystals A personal journey

Blessing all⚘
I wanted to share my experience with one of my favorite crystals that I carry around and call upon for help.

I was set to take my car in for service. got up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Grabbed an apple, bottled water, and keys. *breaks, no car key insight, I became increasingly frustrated looking in the normal places. Normally you'd grab the spare key, right? But no, I lost that 3 years ago... I was so frustrated I thought *Whatever,* I'll have it towed to the shop and get another key made. I mean, how much could this key cost?

I called my guy and explained my problem. He gasped, "No, no, no." Those keys are programmed to a small computer under your seat. If you lose both, you have to get a new computer thingy to reprogram a new set. How much do you ask "$$$"?
I was deflated. I hung up the phone and tried to retrace my steps; I only ever leave them one place. I dug through that key basket over and over, expecting a different result. Under the couch, dust bunnies, yeah, but no key. I even went through the trash twice, yuck. By this time I had a headache. I thought about jumping out the window, but yeah, I'm on the ground floor. I brought the groceries in.
2 trips. Then it hit me: I left them on the countertop. Could I have thrown it out with the rubbish?. I have a headache so bad I've become quite dizzy.

I calmed myself and lay on the couch and put my crystal on the side of my head to help with the headache. I got a strange sensation from the crystal. I can't quite explain it. I felt myself getting totally relaxed. I decided, "Why not take this time to meditate and reflect about the lesson the universe is trying to open my eyes to?"

I thought I got greedy. My headache had calmed down. Will my crystal do double time?

I laid flat on my back and placed the crystal on my third eye. The sensation was so intense I felt a pulling and stretching on my skin. I visualized myself inside a ball of light so big it glistened. I floated away in deep meditation up through  the roof into the clouds. I bounced  around in the clouds for a bit. I cannot tell you how blissful I was feeling. I floated further up, seeing the earth as a globe we used to have in school. I wanted to go higher, but I couldn't. why?

I began to realize how insignificant my problem was. I cannot explain the bliss I felt up there. I floated back to earth through my roof and back on the couch (not an out-of-body experience; deep meditation was used) calmer. I decided to enjoy my moment of bliss; I rolled on my side and held my crystal in my right hand, repeating to myself, "It's in the garage; it's in the garage." I visualized me looking under the car with delight.

I was about to close my eyes when a voice said, "You, Dr.," and I got up. I dropped it in the garage. I didn't  get up to check. I would trust my crystal. I finally fell asleep with the left and right brain fighting for where the key could be. "Left," I said, "said I threw it away." "Right," I said, "trust your crystal. She's never wronged you yet."
Wednesday morning I gave the brain a one-over-left-side inspection. I went to the garage and looked under the car, and to my surprise it was not there. I wasn't as bothered as I was Tuesday. I stood up and looked inside the car, and bam, I remember I lifted the hood when I came back from errands because it felt hot. I lifted the hood, and yep, it was sitting on top of the engine. The relief was so overwhelming