The Sacred Ecliptic

Why I came full circle. Grief, ritual, and living between the altar and the stars

In this article, I want to go more deeply into explaining my recent Catholic V Astrological existential crisis. It has to be looked at against the backdrop of what occurred from February 2024 to February 2025 — probably the most challenging twelve months of my life. Coincidentally, this period aligned with my second Saturn return and a Pluto-to-Sun transit.

Contents

• Mother’s Descent

• Honoring The Ancestors

• The Latin Mass

• Purging The Witch!

• Gnosticism

• Sun Gods & East-Facing Altars

• Coming Full Circle

• Archangel Uriel

The pull toward the Catholic Church wasn’t a conversion so much as a recognition — a sense of returning to something through grief, ancestry, and ritual. What at first felt like confusion and purging now seems more like a cycle coming full circle.

So to put this all into context, we need to start with my mother. Our relationship was always difficult and complicated, and her death in February 2025 came as a shock. Only a year earlier, she seemed indestructible — eighty-six, still running her aerobic classes, very mobile, fiercely independent, living alone in Spain with her cat. Then, unexpectedly, she collapsed and couldn’t get up. From that moment, everything changed: she needed constant care.

Image Reference: Archangel Uriel By Marina Marchione On Etsy

Mother’s Descent

My sister and I were in London; my mother had moved to Spain twenty-five years earlier. Money was tight, and I faced an impossible choice: travel to see her or pay for her care. I chose the care. She seemed to be improving, and we genuinely believed there was time. My sister kept saying, “She’ll outlive all of us.” She didn’t. I never made it back to see her before she died, and there is still guilt…

Mother’s Catholic faith, shared by my Sicilian grandmother (My Dad’s mother, whom I adored), was always part of the backdrop of my life. After her death this year, I found myself drawn back to Catholicism again, something I had been exploring back in 2021. Grief began pulling me toward something familiar and ancestral, a space where loss could be acknowledged in a soothing ritual. My mother had donated her body to science, so there was no coffin, no funeral in Spain. After another stressful six months of clearing her flat for sale and sorting out her debts, we then felt ready to arrange a memorial service for her in England.

This final tribute to our mother was made possible through a lovely Benedictine monk from Ealing Abbey — someone my brother-in-law knew through the Catholic school where he teaches music. Even though we weren’t previous churchgoers, he agreed to serve as the priest at the memorial mass for us and was incredibly welcoming, warm, and non-judgmental. His availability meant the service was held on September 20th. I thought this was amazing synchronicity, the day before the autumn equinox — a time traditionally associated with transitions and letting go. Most of my Sicilian dad’s family came, as well as my mother’s oldest friend in the UK. It was genuinely beautiful.

Honoring The Ancestors

My sister gave a fitting tribute and honest eulogy — funny, raw, and full of family stories that made everyone laugh and cry at the same time. I had designed the memorial leaflet, which brought up so many memories as I sifted through old photographs of my mother over the years: from her as a child, her days as a young model, to her final chapter in Spain. I think compiling that collage for the inside covers helped me reconnect with her spirit in happier times and make peace with her.

At the end of the memorial, the priest brought everything together in a way that felt deeply meaningful and almost magical. It struck me that this kind of ritual can help process complicated grief as effectively as any therapy. My daughter burst into tears at the final hymn, which set me off, too. It felt cathartic and spiritual. Afterwards, I ran up to the priest and feeling very emotional and grateful, told him how moving the service had been. To my surprise, he gave me a big hug. It felt incredibly healing and forgiving, like it had washed away the guilt of being the “bad” daughter.

The Latin Mass

What drew me to traditional Mass services, like those at Ealing Abbey, was the ritual itself — the Benedictine monks, the organ, the choir, the incense, and the sense of something reverent, ancient, and deliberate. After that, I began attending Mass every Sunday, and each one brought a tear to my eye, especially the one on Remembrance Sunday (Poppy day in the UK), which is, of course, not far off “All Souls” day held on November 1st. Traditionally, it is a time when we remember the dead and our ancestors.

So again, the timing of this church-going was appropriate and in tune with Scorpio season and my Pluto transit. With the vibration of the organ and the wafting frankincense, it all felt deeply purifying to my soul. I was hooked, and I wanted something even more steeped in history and closer to the ancestors. So behold! The following Sunday, I entered the Brompton Oratory, a gorgeous Baroque Cathedral in central London, for their High Latin mass. The spoken Latin felt so very mystical, evocative and ancient. Being the foundation of many European languages, Latin carries a kind of power that I can’t quite explain.

What I hadn’t fully confronted until then, however, was the direct conflict between Catholicism and astrology. If you take Catholicism seriously, astrology is considered divination — a mortal sin! That realisation was unsettling. At the same time, I began consuming a lot of online content — especially testimonies from people who had left New Age spirituality for Christianity. Many of their stories resonated with me: difficult childhoods, fractured family relationships, a search for meaning, a desire for redemption. There was something very Plutonic about it all — death, rebirth, purging.

Archangel Uriel

I chose Archangel Uriel as the featured image for this article because of his connection to Scorpio Season and his resonance with my Pluto transit. I feel very connected to his archetype right now. Uriel whose name means “Light of God,” is revered in apocryphal and mystical writings—as the angel of divine wisdom, illumination, and righteous judgment, one who enlightens the human mind to understand God’s truth and moral order. Uriel is often associated with fire or light, symbolizing both purifying insight and the burning clarity of conscience, and is portrayed as a guide who helps humanity discern between truth and deception. In Christian angelology influenced by later mystical and astrological symbolism, Uriel has been linked to the fixed star Antares, the fiery red “heart of the Scorpion,” which represents intense insight, courage, and the testing of moral integrity through power and passion. This symbolic connection emphasizes Uriel’s role as an illuminator during moments of spiritual trial, where profound wisdom must be balanced with humility, echoing Antares’ theme of great potential that demands ethical mastery rather than domination.