Hey beautiful soul ❤️
Last week I was walking my dog at 5:47 a.m. when the sky turned the exact color of a struck match. Mars had just risen in Sagittarius, and something inside my ribcage answered back.
I remembered the winter of 2017 when Mars was last here.
I was 29, heartbroken, and living in a city that no longer fit.
One morning I woke up, packed one suitcase, and left without telling anyone. I drove west until the mountains looked like they were breathing.
Eight years later I’m still here, still breathing with them.
That is what Mars in Sagittarius does: it arrives like a friend who kicks the door open, hands you your forgotten passport, and says,
“We’re leaving. Now. The life you keep postponing is already late.”
Right now the Archer is galloping through the sky until December 15, 2025, and it is not interested in your five-year plan. It is interested in the prayer you stopped saying out loud. It is interested in the plane ticket you keep closing the tab on. It is interested in the love you keep describing as “complicated” when what you really mean is “scared.”
Here are the five questions it pressed against my heart that dawn—and the same five it is pressing against yours.
1. “What are you still pretending not to know?”
Rumi wrote, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Mars in Sagittarius is the Light wearing boots.
Practice: Tonight, light a candle the color of sunrise. Ask the question once, out loud. Do not reach for your phone. Sit in the silence until the answer makes you cry or laugh—both are correct.
Anti-burnout tool: Place one hand on your heart and one on your belly. Breathe until the candle flickers. That’s enough for today.
2. “Who have you been diminishing yourself for, and why does their comfort still feel more important than your becoming?”
I once stayed small for a man who said my dreams were “a lot.”
Mars in Sagittarius looked at me and said, “Let him carry his own smallness.”
Practice for you: Write their name on a piece of paper. Underneath, write everything you stopped wearing, saying, wanting, and being. Fold it four times. Sleep with it under your pillow. In the morning, thank it, then let it go—into fire, into water, into the wind.
Anti-burnout tool: After releasing, roll a drop of rose or lavender oil on your wrists and whisper, “I return to my own size.” Lie down for seven minutes. No music. Just the sound of your own becoming.
3. “If your life were a horse, would it be galloping or grazing in the same tired pasture?”
Sagittarius is half-human, half-horse for a reason.
The human dreams. The horse runs.
Practice: Put on the song that makes you feel most alive. Dance in your kitchen until you’re out of breath. While your heart is still pounding, open your calendar and block one non-negotiable day for the thing that scares and excites you in equal measure. Name the day “Gallop.”
Anti-burnout tool: After dancing, drink a full glass of water with one drop of peppermint oil (or just fresh mint leaves). Sit on the floor, palms open on your thighs, and feel the fire settle into steady warmth instead of wildfire.
4. “What truth is too large for the old container of your life?”
A few years ago I whispered to a friend, “I think I’m meant to write things that help people remember they’re magic.”
She smiled and said, “Then why are you still hiding?”
Mars in Sagittarius does not negotiate with hiding.
Practical advise: Record a 60-second voice note saying the truth out loud—as if no one will ever hear it. Send it only to yourself. Listen to it on the solstice.
Anti-burnout tool: Place rose quartz over your throat before recording. Afterward, hold smoky quartz in your left hand and say, “I am safe to be this big.” Then nap. Ten minutes or two hours—whatever your body votes for.
5. “When you imagine theperson you will be on December 16, 2025—the day after Mars leaves Sagittarius—what is she/he no longer willing to carry?”
Close your eyes. See this person you becoming. Are they standing taller? Eyes are softer and fiercer at the same time or not? Holding nothing that is not theirs? Describe what you see.
Helpful practice: Make the “no longer” list tonight.
Ten items maximum. On December 15, burn the list under the open sky. Let the smoke carry it forward. Let the ashes feed whatever wants to grow next.
Anti-burnout tool: Before burning, anoint the paper with frankincense or cedarwood oil. Stand barefoot if you can. As it turns to ash, place both palms on the earth and say, “I receive ease in equal measure to my courage.”
These questions are fire.
These tools are water.
Together they let you run without burning out.
But Mars in Sagittarius doesn’t just want your heart—he wants your whole life to feel like open road. Here’s the gentlest, most practical checklist to touch every sphere before the Archer leaves on December 15. Do one a day, or one a week. There is no “behind.”
What’s Best to Do Before December 15 – A Soft Map for All of Life
Body & Energy
Walk or dance barefoot for at least 11 minutes every day (even in your living room). Mars rules the hips and thighs—moving them literally moves stuck fire.
Stretch your hip flexors every night before bed. Whisper “thank you for carrying me forward” as you fold.
Home & Sacred Space
Open every single window for 9 minutes, even if it’s cold. Let the stale air leave with the old stories.
Move one piece of furniture. Even 10 inches. Sagittarius hates energy that has forgotten how to travel.
Money & Work
Look at one recurring expense and ask: “Does this still feel like freedom?” Cancel or renegotiate one thing before the 15th.
Put a clear quartz or citrine on your wallet or laptop and say once: “Money flows to the woman who stopped waiting.”
Relationships & Love
Tell one person one true thing you’ve been scared to say (text counts). Start with “I feel…” not “you always…”.
Light a pink or red candle and speak your future love (romantic or platonic) into the flame as if it’s already here. Then blow it out and trust the smoke to deliver.
Creativity & Play
Buy the plane ticket, the course, the concert seat, the pottery class—whatever made you whisper “one day.” Non-refundable is extra credit.
Make something ugly on purpose. Paint, sing, write, cook—zero audience. Sagittarius teaches that joy is not performative.
Spirit & Inner World
Every morning ask: “What wants to leave today?” Every evening ask: “What wants to arrive?” Write one line for each.
Mars in Sagittarius is not here to make you productive. It is here to make you free—and free people rest deeply so they can love wildly.
So take its hand. Let it pull you onto the back of the horse. Feel the wind rip the “maybe later” right out of your mouth.
You were meant to burn just brightly enough that the people who are ready to run can finally find you in the dark.
With my whole heart galloping beside yours,
Alia Marino
Divine Energy Code
P.S. Reply with the single word “Gallop” if you’re ready. I’ll send you the personal note I recorded for myself on that 5:47 a.m. morning. It still makes me cry in the best way.
