Valentine’s Day has come and gone. The roses are wilting, the chocolates half-eaten, and the collective spell of romantic consumerism is fading. But for those of us who walk the older paths, the mid-February celebration of love does not end here. Its roots run far deeper, reaching back to a wild and primal Roman festival called Lupercalia.
Unlike the polished romance of St. Valentine, Lupercalia was an untamed honoring of fertility, purification, and the sacred pulse of life itself. It belonged to Faunus, the Roman god of nature and flocks, akin to the Greek Pan, and to the She-Wolf, Lupa, who nourished Rome’s founders, Romulus and Remus.
This was a time when people gathered not for candlelit dinners, but for ritual cleansing, ecstatic dancing, and the invocation of carnal freedom.
While Valentine’s Day promotes coupledom and hearts wrapped in ribbons, Lupercalia celebrates the primal current of desire. Not as something to be tamed, but as a bridge between human and divine nature. It reminds us that love begins with the body, with its instincts, needs, and vitality. Sacred eros is not shameful. It is regenerative.
The Return to the Wild Heart
For the priestesses and seekers walking the Goddess path today, Lupercalia beckons us to reclaim the wildness that society often softens beneath romantic ideals. This is not a call to chaos, but to balance. A remembering that true love and sacred union thrive when the wild and the holy are allowed to coexist.
Consider marking this season with a small ritual of liberation.
Burn a note releasing old attachments or expectations around love. Dance to awaken your sensual power and reconnect with your inner Lupa. Offer honey, wine, or rose petals to the Goddess in thanks for the passion and vitality that live within you.
As you do, notice how the energy shifts. From longing into empowerment. From external validation into self-devotion.
This is the essence of Lupercalia. Purification through celebration. Alchemy through embodiment. Union through freedom.
As we step out of Valentine’s shadow and back into the sacred wild, remember that love is not just a sentiment. It is a living current that pulses through the body, the earth, and the ancient heart within us.
Thank you for reading,
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On the February Leo Full Moon, the Moon lifted a golden chalice to the sky and Venus answered.
Not the soft-focus cartoon of Venus you’ve seen on Valentine’s cards, but the ancient one: copper-blooded, sea-born, bright as a blade, walking out of the foam with salt in her hair and entire empires forgetting their names when she looks their way. She is not here to ask if you are lovable. She is here because you already are, and she is tired of watching you argue.
Celebrating Venus during the Leo full moon is not just romance, it is radiance. It is the part of you that wants to dress for the life you are calling in, not the life you’re barely tolerating. It’s the way your spine lengthens when you remember you are allowed to take up space in every room you enter. It’s the heat in your chest when you watch someone live boldly and a voice inside whispers, “That’s me, before I learned to dim.”
In this moon’s temple, Venus is She Who Enthrones the Heart.
She moves through the chambers of your life like a queen inspecting her palace. In the Hall of Work, she runs her fingers over the places you’ve traded joy for constant proving, creativity for survival, devotion for “what will they think?” In the Hall of Love, she pauses at the doors that never quite opened for you, the text threads that die with a breadcrumb, the little shrines you build in your mind to people who never once built one to you.
She does not pity you. She does something far more dangerous: she remembers you.
She remembers the child who twirled without checking who was watching. She remembers the first time you loved without strategy, without angles, without calculating what version of you would be least rejected. She remembers the way you used to create, doodles, stories, playlists, outfits, altars, for the sheer pleasure of seeing beauty exist where there was empty space before.
Venus on this full moon was not asking you to become someone else. She was asking you to stop abandoning the one who was there from the beginning.
She said:
“Beloved, you have mistaken starvation for modesty. You have called it humility to sit at the edge of your own feast, waiting for someone to invite you to the table you set.
I did not carve your heart from starlight and sea-salt so it could spend its life apologizing for wanting warmth.
Your longing to be cherished is not a flaw; it is the homing signal I stitched into your nervous system so you would never settle for rooms where you have to beg for crumbs.”
On a night like this, Venus prowls the borders between sacred and ordinary. She is present in the way you choose your earrings, the way you arrange your sheets, the way you decide whether to text first or wait, whether to say “I’m fine” or tell the truth. She is in every moment you decide you are worth the extra five minutes of care.
Valentine’s season belongs to her, but not in the way you’ve been sold. She is not the patron saint of desperation, couples’ packages, and red roses bought out of obligation. She is the guardian of mutual delight. Of eye contact that feels like sunlight. Of the quiet, fierce decision: “If love cannot meet me where my soul lives, I would rather pour that love back into my own altar and into the world.”
Under this Leo moon, her energy poured down like warm honey and wildfire.
You might feel it as an ache: Why have I played it so safe with my heart? You might feel it as a spark: What would it mean to be loyal to my desires instead of my fears? You might feel it as a dare: What if I let myself be fully seen by someone who has actually earned that privilege, starting with myself?
Venus laughs at your checklist and leans in closer.
She is not interested in whether you are “on track” according to anyone’s timeline. She is interested in whether your life feels like a poem or an obligation. She wants your laughter to return to your body like a migration home. She wants your creativity to spill out of the cages you built for it. She wants your bedroom, your friendships, your calendar, your mirror to become places where you are not performing worthiness but reveling in it.
And yes, she is the mistress of touches and kisses and date nights and tangled sheets, but she will tell you a secret:
The most magnetic thing you can wear this Valentine’s season is not perfectly winged eyeliner or the right outfit.
It is a heart that has stopped begging and started choosing.
Choosing who gets access. Choosing where your time goes. Choosing which invitations are true yeses and which are a slow erosion of your light. Choosing to pour as much attention into your own sacred life as you have always poured into other people’s stories.
On this Leo Full Moon, Venus was less “Be my Valentine?” and more “Be your own lover first and then see who can meet you there.”
She invites you to:
Dress for the version of you who knows they are an answered prayer. Light a candle not to fix yourself, but to witness yourself. Write down the loves you are calling in: in romance, in friendship, in community, in your work, in your body. Refuse, gently but firmly, anything that requires you to shrink to be held.
If her words make you bristle, that’s all right. Venus has always been controversial. She threatens cynicism by insisting that beauty still matters, that touch still heals, that pleasure is not frivolous but revolutionary for those who were taught to be useful instead of loved.
But if something in you lights up, if your shoulders drop and your spine quietly straightens as you read this, then know that she is already working.
This is the current that runs beneath the Leo Full Moon in February in my Temple of the Moon Goddess. We don’t just talk about Venus; we give her a night, a room, a ritual, a place to touch your real life. We enthrone the heart with candlelight, words, movement, and honest ink on the page, so that when the moon sets, something in you does not go back to sleep.
Because this is what goddess energy really is in the modern age: not an escape from reality, but a way of remembering that your reality is worthy of devotion.
And Venus, shimmering in Leo’s golden roar, is here to ask you one question that might change everything:
“Will you finally sit on the throne I built out of your own unedited, unapologetic heart?”
Learn about Venus and how to get close to her here:
We know astrology is ancient. The foundation of astrology is as ancient as Babylon.
I am currently searching for the ancient aspects of astrology and, of course, love compatibility is in my mind.
Note: I already know that my Scorpio is my divine match and I only do this for research purposes.
In ancient Roman astrology, the compatibility of signs for love matches was interpreted based on the relationships between the zodiac signs and their ruling planets. Here’s how a Roman astrologer might have viewed the compatibility of Pisces with other signs:
Scorpio (October 23 – November 21): Scorpio, ruled by Mars, was considered a potentially good match for Pisces. Both signs are associated with deep emotional intensity and intuition, making them compatible in terms of their emotional connection and shared passions.
Taurus (April 20 – May 20): Taurus, ruled by Venus, was also seen as a harmonious match for Pisces. Taurus provides stability and grounding to Pisces’ dreamy and imaginative nature, creating a complementary balance in the relationship.
Cancer (June 21 – July 22): Cancer, ruled by the Moon, shares Pisces’ sensitivity and emotional depth. They both value security and emotional intimacy, which fosters a strong bond and mutual understanding.
Capricorn (December 22 – January 19): Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, complements Pisces’ intuitive and creative traits with practicality and ambition. Together, they can achieve balance between emotional depth and material success.
Virgo (August 23 – September 22): Virgo, ruled by Mercury, provides intellectual stimulation and practical support to Pisces. Their shared attention to detail and analytical approach can create a supportive and nurturing partnership.
Ancient Roman astrology emphasized the compatibility of signs based on their elemental qualities (fire, earth, air, water) and planetary rulerships. While individual compatibility depends on many factors beyond sun signs alone, these pairings were considered favorable due to their potential for emotional resonance, mutual understanding, and complementary strengths in a romantic relationship.
Couples in Rome would get their astrology done while getting married.
Pisces. We all know it means fish. But why do we not use fish as the name of this sign?
I am studying Latin, which is why I’m immersed in everything Ancient Roman. Otherwise, I’d be studying astrology texts much more ancient. Is astrology as ancient as civilization?
Piscis means fish in Latin (I learned this on Duolingo), and Pisces is the plural form of the word. Latin grammar is complex, and other forms of this word were used in different times that we don’t use today. For example, piscem, but that’s beside the point.
Ancient Roman Astrology. My research
Ancient Roman astrology, like many aspects of Roman culture, was heavily influenced by Greek traditions. The Romans adopted and adapted Greek astrological practices, incorporating them into their religious beliefs, political decisions, and daily lives. Here are some key points about ancient Roman astrology:
Greek Influence: Ancient Roman astrology was largely based on Greek astrology, which originated in Mesopotamia and was later developed by the Greeks. Greek astrological texts, such as those attributed to the legendary sage Hermes Trismegistus, were translated into Latin and circulated widely in the Roman Empire.
Planetary Influences: Ancient Roman astrologers believed that the movements and positions of celestial bodies, particularly the planets and stars, had a profound influence on human affairs and events on Earth. Each planet was associated with specific qualities, such as Mars with war and aggression, Venus with love and beauty, and Saturn with restriction and discipline.
Natal Astrology: Natal astrology, which involves interpreting the positions of celestial bodies at the time of a person’s birth, was widely practiced in ancient Rome. Astrologers would create astrological charts, known as horoscopes, to analyze an individual’s personality traits, strengths, weaknesses, and potential future events.
Political Astrology: Astrology played a significant role in Roman politics and governance. Emperors and political leaders often consulted astrologers for advice and guidance on matters of state, such as military campaigns, succession, and the timing of important events.
Astrological Texts: While many ancient Roman astrological texts have been lost over time, some survive in fragments or in later medieval manuscripts. One of the most famous astrological texts used in Ancient Rome is “Tetrabiblos” by the Greek-Egyptian astrologer Claudius Ptolemy, which was widely read and studied in the Roman Empire.
Learning about Roman astrology:
To learn more about ancient Roman astrology, you can explore ancient texts on astrology that have been translated into English or other modern languages. Some recommended resources include:
“The Anthology of Vettius Valens: A Roman Astrologer” translated by Robert Schmidt
“The Astrological World of the Greeks and Romans” by James H. Holden
“A History of Western Astrology” by S. J. Tester
Additionally, you can consult academic journals and articles on ancient astrology for scholarly insights and research findings. By delving into these sources, you can gain a deeper understanding of the fascinating world of ancient Roman astrology and its impact on Roman society and culture.
Hermes Trismegistus is the Egyptian Thoth
Hermes Trismegistus, also known as Thoth-Hermes in the Greek-Egyptian tradition, is a legendary figure who was believed to be the author of a vast body of wisdom literature, including works on astrology, alchemy, magic, and philosophy. In Egyptian mythology, Thoth was the god of wisdom, writing, and magic, while in Greek mythology, Hermes was the messenger of the gods and the patron of travelers, merchants, and thieves.
The fusion of these two figures, Hermes and Thoth, resulted in the creation of Hermes Trismegistus, whose name means “Thrice-Great Hermes.” He was revered as a divine teacher and the source of esoteric knowledge in both Egyptian and Greek traditions. The Hermetic writings attributed to Hermes Trismegistus, such as the Corpus Hermeticum and the Asclepius, were highly influential in the development of Western esotericism, including astrology, alchemy, and mysticism.
While the historical existence of Hermes Trismegistus as a single individual is debated among scholars, his mythical status as a repository of ancient wisdom has had a profound impact on Western intellectual and spiritual traditions.
Whether scholars believe in Hermes Trismegistus or not is unimportant. We still find wisdom in these writings and they’re still widely studied today.
PS. The Latin texts were translated, and thus, they would not have been the most accurate.
Finally, did the Christians destroy Latin Ancient Roman texts.
Lovestar Temple🔥 🔥 