Beloved, Helen
As we cross the threshold into Sagittarius season, I’m thinking about December in Uganda — my childhood Decembers — hot, bright, alive, and rooted in harvest.
In the Northern Hemisphere, December is the beginning of winter’s stillness.
But where I grew up, it was the season of heat, ripeness, and celebration — the time when we harvested peanuts, when the soil released what it had been storing all year, when the land was abundant and generous.
I can still feel it in my body — the crunch of the dry ground under my feet, the smell of roasted peanuts in the sun, the way life felt full and possible. December, for us, was the season of gathering and gratitude before the new year opened her doors.
And what strikes me now is that this childhood memory is the exact frequency of Sagittarius season.
Where Scorpio takes us into the underworld for release and transformation…
Sagittarius lifts us back into warmth, adventure, expansion, and joy.
It is the season of the inner harvest.
The season of gathering the wisdom of your depths.
The season of heat returning to the body and fire waking up the spirit.
That is what this threshold is about.
You’ve shed parts of yourself that needed to fall away.
You’ve confronted shadows that wanted to be met.
You’ve released what no longer belonged to the woman you are becoming.
And now —
just like the peanut fields of my childhood —
you are ready to gather what your inner soil has produced.
This is the moment when your spirit looks up and asks:
“Now that I’ve transformed…
what am I ready to live, seek, claim, and explore?”
✴️ A Transmission for This Threshold
Beloved, you are standing in the heat after the storm.
In the spaciousness after the descent.
In the glow after the darkness.
This is the season where your soul remembers:
Joy is wisdom.
Curiosity is guidance.
Expansion is devotion.
Adventure is healing.
Sagittarius teaches us not to abandon the lessons of the underworld,
but to let them fuel our next horizon.
Everything you shed in Scorpio has created space for something new to rise —
a new direction, a new truth, a new adventure, a new version of you
that does not apologize for wanting more out of life.
This is your moment of reorientation.
A turning toward the wide-open sky.
A reclaiming of your right to move forward
not in fear —
but in freedom.
Journaling prompt
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Where am I being called to expand, explore, or take a leap toward joy?
Hit reply Id love to know
Warmly,
Dr. Helen Orombi
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